Hope Returns
by Lily Handle
Summary: Dr. Chandler is back and this time she's not against the Brotherhood or Magneato. Two bills are before Congress on mutant restriction, mutant advocates are being murdered and Hope is on their list.
1. Chapter One

Hope Returns

Chapter One

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: Look, look, I wrote something new! I got it rolling, I think, in my head. I still have a little trouble with the details for it, but I wanted to get this out so you reviewers can give me your opinions. Thank you so much for reading my work, I adore you all!

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"The human race has little choice now, we must arm ourselves against these monsters." A cheer went up from the audience, a single voice of bigotry and hate. "They believe they are superior, they know that at this time we can not stand against them. Soon they will rise up and take over. They will take over cities, towns, and kill anyone who stands in their way. They are violent, unpredictable freaks who shouldn't be allowed to live with people like you and me!" More cheering from an audience that was rapidly getting more and more agitated. A little more time, the speaker thought, a few of the right acts, a little more propaganda and they would be eating out of his hands for life.

"We must preserve the human way, the correct way of life. Mutants should not be allowed to live in normal, everyday society! They are freaks and as such they don't belong here!" Tomorrow there would be reports of anti-mutant riots, looting and a few attacks on mutants and non-mutants. It was exactly what the speaker wanted, they were mindless putty in his hands.

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Dr. Hope Chandler was quite content with her afternoon plans. She'd settled down in the Infirmary, today's newspaper tucked under her arm, and after she'd finished reading it, she'd start the first draft of her speech. She didn't expect anyone to be coming into the Infirmary today, there were no training sessions today, most of the students had decided to play outside in the snow and at the worst Hope would have to take care of a few sniffles. She was content with the silence, knowing that it could be shattered at any moment and she'd have to run off with the X-men or answer another call from a talk show interested in her work. She was amazed at how quickly her work had become accepted now that the mutant secrete was out. Like fire on dry tinder her career had sky rocketed and she spent a lot of her time answering people's questions about mutants. She absolutely adored the attention her theories were getting, they were bridging the gap between mutants and humans, which was what she had been going for. Hope found herself smiling as she settled on the stool in the Infirmary, there had been such leaps and bounds in X-gene theories and all of the newest theories had bases in her original ones it was hard for her not to be smug. Of course she liked these breaks too, when she could pretend for a few hours that it was like it use to be. Opening the paper she scanned the headline: Another Advocate Murdered in Washington. Hope's smile faded quickly as she scanned the article for the important facts. The victim this time was William Morrow, a leading authority on mutant genetics, he'd been shot in his hotel room. He was the fourth mutant advocate to be murdered in a week and like the other three he'd been unable to speak before Congress on the two mutant restriction bills. The first murder victim had been Silvia Houston, a sociologist who was considered the specialist in mutant human interaction. Hope had known of her, they'd often spoke at the same meetings, but beyond that they were strangers. The second victim was Andrew Chancler, who like William Morrow was a mutant genetics expert, and Hope had known him very well. He was one of her friends in the lecturing community, a kind man who's personality was that of a natural leader. Amelia Passer had been the third victim, a small mousy woman who was herself a mutant, she'd been a doctor like Hope, a supporter of mutant equality and harmless. William Morrow, Hope had no connection too besides that she'd heard his name before from other lecturers. What bothered her most was that all four had been murdered before they were able to speak to Congress. A few not so open minded politicians had decided that mutants needed policing and drafted two bills. One was the Mutant Restriction Act, which would bar a mutant from using their powers for any reason other than a lift threatening one. The second was the Mutant Registration Act, which would require all mutants to register with the government and have an identification card that would list their abilities. It was a touchy issue among the public, some thought while a good start mutants should have even more restrictions placed on them. Others were arguing that there shouldn't be any limits on mutants, that they should be treated like normal citizens. Hope believed there were upsides and downsides to both bills, but believed that with some tweaking common ground could be found. Perturbed with the paper Hope folded it, set it down on the counter and paced. She was supposed to talk before Congress herself, in a week, with the other instructors, well all except Logan. Since he'd rather avoid publicity and wasn't the best public speaker he'd been elected to stay at the Institute and watch over the students. Since the first murder Hope had been waiting for Charles to say that it was too dangerous for them, any of them to go. It hadn't happened yet, which attested to the importance of this mission, but with a fourth murder, one where the victim had been heavily guarded by police and FBI agents, she had no reason to believe that Charles wouldn't cancel the trip now. She would find a way to go to Washington though, even if she'd have to hide in South Carolina and then drive up the day she was suppose to speak. Speaking before Congress was the whole point of her work, to educate the masses.

"You look a little frustrated, Hope." Hope jumped and clutched a hand to her chest. Standing in the doorway of the Infirmary was Hank, watching her with a slight smile.

"Doesn't anyone ever knock here?" Hope asked, but she smiled at Hank, "Is there something you need?"

"Company, and a trained public speaker to look over my speech," Hank said, crossing the room and taking a seat on the stool Hope had been sitting on, held out a few sheets of paper to her. "I think I ramble a bit too much."

"Well, if this is anything like the first Congressional hearing then you'll probably be interrupted before you get a chance to ramble," Hope said, but she pulled out another stool and sat down to read. It was a fairly brilliant speech, well thought out and clearly reasonable.

"I can't compare," Hope said with a smile, handing the speech back, "You'll impress them."

"And this," Hank waved the paper at her, "Is what was bothering you?"

"Only slightly, it's unnerving to think someone is picking off mutant advocates."

"We'll be staying at the same hotel, but center rooms, with no windows. Charles saw to the room changes after the second one." Hank set the paper down, "Besides that the plans haven't changed."

"Will the government be watching out for us too?"

"Round the clock, Charles tried to get rid of them, but no luck."

Hope sighed, "I'm going to hate being tailed by FBI agents."

"Well, so am I. I thought Charles would be on the phone forever with the director." Hope smiled at Hank's exasperated tone.

"Had an important question for him?"

"I'm anxious to go, that's all. I'm tense, I guess," Hank growled, "Everything seems to be so important, every time the students go to school, or are called on to stop the Brotherhood."

"It's hard on everyone, Hank, not just you." Hope placed her hand over his, "You do splendidly when you come with me to lectures and dinners. You make a good impression on newspaper reporters and other lecturers. You'll do fine."

"Those dinner's I can handle, speaking televised on a set of bills that will effect every mutant in the United States, gives me butterflies." Hope laughed and squeezed Hank's hand.

"You know, there's a big get together, about two days before we're suppose to go to Washington," Hope remembered, getting up from the stool, "I got the invitation in the mail a few days ago, what do you say we convince Charles you and I can go. It's basically a lecture, a little less formal, more of a symposium of sorts. We'll get a table and argue theories, and politics with others. Ah ha!" Hope found the invitation in her briefcase, and held it out to Hank. "It'll give you a chance to try out some of those points you make in your speech."

"How come Charles didn't get one?" Hank said with a frown turning the invitation in his hands.

"Well, he doesn't lecture much outside of Bayville or through phone interviews with newspapers. I don't think the person hosting knows him very well," Hope said casually, waving a hand. She liked the plan more and more as she thought about it. It would give Hank a chance to dispel some nerves, she'd be able to find more points for her speech and argue theories with her collogues. Oh, heck, she needed to work off some nerves herself, this was the first time she'd speak before Congress.

"Do you know who's hosting?" Hank asked, frowning down at the invitation.

"Oh, uh, a man named Trask, or Tash, something of the like."

"Trask?" Hank practically yelled, "Hope, do you know who Trask is?"

"I've heard a little on him, runs a group trying to work on human and mutant relations," Hope frown and Hank's angry glared, "Everything I've heard about Wilson Trask is good."

"A man named Trask built the Sentinel robot, I think his first name is Jason, and he's in jail for it."

"You never told me that," Hope frown, "In fact no one told me who built the robot, and you don't know if these two are related."

"Trask is a pretty unusual last name. Hope, I think you should let me look into him," Hank ordered, "It seems too much like a coincidence."

"Hank, why would a man who hates mutants try to strengthen mutant human relations?" Hope tried to point out, but by the look on Hank's face he wasn't going to budge, but she wasn't finished yet, "A lot of mutant advocates speak highly of him, how could they if he was against mutants?" Hope sighed again and rolled her eyes, "Wilson Trask, at least get the name right." Hank smiled and patted Hope's shoulder.

"I'm just looking out for you, Hope."

"I know, Hank, I know," Hope smiled and kissed Hank on the cheek.

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"She got an invitation from a man named Trask?" Logan said, pacing the floor of Charles's office. Hank had asked the other instructors to meet with him there after dinner. He hadn't told them why until a few minutes ago, and of course Logan's reaction was expected.

"I did some digging after I talked with Hope," Hank continued, ignoring Logan's angry pacing, "Wilson Trask is the illegitimate son of a lawyer and a clerk. The mother's maiden name is Walters, but I couldn't find anything on the father."

"So, he could be related to the Trask responsible for the Sentinel fiasco," Ororo said from where she sat on Charles's desk.

"Trask said something about cutting connections with S.H.I.E.L.D., I can see if I can get Fury to tell me about Trask's past," Logan growled, looking determined.

"What else about this Trask?" Charles asked, sitting in the middle of the room, his fingers steepled together.

"He's a business man, owns a chain of car detailing shops. On the high end of middle class living, he's president of The Coalition on Human Resources. It's supposedly a group working on human mutant relations."

"The name just rings of it," Ororo snorted, "I've never heard of them, have you Charles?"

"Yes, actually, I have. They're a small group, with only about twenty so members. They seem to be a perfectly legitimate group. Though their public head isn't Wilson Trask, it's a woman, a Meredith Rike."

"Of course Trask wouldn't want to be public, his name is connected to the biggest anti-mutant act and group ever," Ororo pointed out.

"Did you find out anything else, Hank?" Charles asked.

"He has no criminal record, graduated with a bachelor's degree in business from Chicago University and is married with one child a son. The wife is a homemaker it seems, and the son is on the little league team. They're a painfully normal family. You think this symposium is nothing?"

"The Doc shouldn't go," Logan snapped, "We know nothing about this Trask."

"If I go with her, she'll be protected, and I can meet this Trask first hand," Hank suggested, "There will be other doctors and speakers there too."

"We could all go," Ororo suggested.

"No one should go," Growled Logan, "With the things in Washington the way they are it's not safe enough for anyone to go."

"Excuse me," Hope strode into the room, "I was looking for Hank. Did I interrupt something."

"Actually, Doctor, I was hoping for a chance to talk to you," Charles said, "We've been discussing your invitation."

"Oh," Hope cut her eyes to Hank's and mentally glared, "Is there a problem?"

"We have a few questions about…" Charles started.

"You know this Trask?" Logan cut in, stopping his pacing and glaring at Hope, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Not personally, no," Hope frowned, "He's certainly not dangerous and I did some snooping of my own. I called my friends from the lecturing circuit. They say Trask is a perfectly pleasant man, who speaks well of mutants and wants nothing but peace."

"It's called lying," Logan hissed.

"The man has no criminal record, he's donated to mutant research foundations and has started a college fund for under privileged mutants. Does this sound like a man who is anti-mutant?"

"Anyone can craft an image," Logan said, taking a step towards Hope.

"Logan, the Doctor has a point," Charles said, instantly playing peacemaker, "I think the choice is yours Doctor. Hank has found nothing suspicious, other than the name, and your friends speak highly of him. I don't see any potential problems, but I am a little uneasy with this."

Hope frowned, "I'd like to go," Logan growled, "Again from what I've heard from my friends, this is suppose to be just a free thinking session on human mutant relations and theories. I can't see any harm in it."

"I'll go with you, Hope, if the offer still stands," Hank said, "I'd like to meet this Trask myself."

"Well, then it's settled, we'll go, and meet you in Washington." Hope smiled, happy she'd won the battle, "I'll get the arrangements made." With a smile and nod to everyone in the room she left.

"Logan, contact Fury, find out everything you can about Trask," Charles said once the door was firmly shut, "Hank, don't let her out of your sight. Make sure she gets adjoining hotel rooms and slip a tracker on her."

"Don't you think you're being a little over protective, Professor?" Ororo asked, as both men left to do their assigned task.

"The leader of the anti-mutant group, Human's First made an announcement today over his radio station. He read the names of every pro-mutant speaker going to talk before Congress and where they live. He then went on to say something along the lines of kill them to preserve the human way of life. No Wilson Trask was on that list, neither was Meredith Rike. Hope's name, however, the Institute's address and her parents home in South Carolina, were on that list."

"You don't think they'd try for her here do you? No human in their right mind would attack a house full of mutants, no matter how strong their hate for us." Ororo said.

"These people who lead these groups are very good at what they do, they got that list, didn't they?"

"Then why not keep Hope here? Where she's safest?"

"We can't keep her locked up every time someone threatens her. She has enough control of her power where she can protect herself, and she's smart enough to know when she is in trouble. Is the doctor needs help, she'll ask for it."

"Do you think they'll turn up anything?" Ororo asked, picking up the invitation Hank had left in the office.

"Honestly, I can't tell," Charles rubbed his temple with one hand, "It's fuzzy, but the invitation didn't give off any bad premonitions or feelings. I think the doctor will be safe."

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Author's Note: I leapt right into the plot, no time for you to catch your breath at all. I think if you've read The Effects of Hope you were able to catch your breath and know enough of the back-story to understand this. Please review; I really, really need people's opinions on this. I'm a little unsure of this story, for some unknown reason. Thanks for reading.

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	2. Chapter Two

Hope Returns

Chapter Two

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: First I want to personally thank those who have reviewed, Richard Raven Croft, Scrawler and Life of L.A. and Silverwolf, you're all so nice to review. Well, also, look forward to a fun little one shot from a contest, but the group who issued the contest gets first dibs so you'll have to wait. Please read and review the next chapter in Hope Returns.

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Hope was at ease, relaxing on the steps of the Institute. It was the end of the day, the winter had eased up and she had been sent to supervise a snowball fight. She was just there to make sure no one went over board with their powers, as the students often liked to do. Hope herself was smiling at the antics, there was nothing quite like watching a snowball fight between combat trained mutants. Kurt popped in and out of the fire, Bobby was particularly unpopular because of an ice shield and Kitty just let the snowballs phase through her. The students were allowed to use their powers as long as they didn't use them on each other, if they did Hope would step in with threats of Logan training sessions. She was enjoying herself, tomorrow she'd be on a plane with Hank to talk with the greatest minds on mutants, and then she'd be speaking before Congress. It was going to be an exciting week, if the anti-mutant groups, which had rallied in Washington, didn't ruin the events. Hope glanced up as the laughter suddenly stopped; everyone was looking at her, and grinning.

"Oh, don't you dare!" Hope yelled, a little too late. Covering her face with her arms she was pelted with snowballs. Laughing like the kids Hope got to her feet, and started packing snow, "That was brilliantly fair!" She hadn't even seen snow until she had started working at Charity, but she'd picked up the proper way to pack a snowball, and now was winging snowballs towards the sound of laughter. By the time she called a stop to it, she was breathless and still laughing.

"Alright, alright, you all win, uncle!" She laughed, fending off the last few snowballs, "Go inside already, and get dry before dinner." The students left in a flurry of noise, while Hope dusted the snow from her jacket, occasionally snorting out a giggle. Hope sighed a bit, checking her watch. There was a good thirty minutes before dinner, and she hadn't been in town to get her mail for a while, she might as well go get it before the trip and tell the PO box company to hold all mail for her while she was gone. Stuffing her hands in her pockets Hope started towards the front gate.

"Doc, hey Doc!" Hope glanced over her shoulder to see Jean running towards her. Hope stopped to wait while the red head caught up to her, "Where are you going?"

"I thought I'd walk to town and pick up my mail before dinner," Hope explained, smiling.

"Can I come with? It sounds more appealing than fighting my way to the bathroom." Jean rolled her eyes, which Hope grinned at.

"Of course, I'd never turn down such wonderful company." Companionably Hope started for the gate with Jean at her side, "So tell me, are you excited to watch over the Infirmary while I'm gone?"

"Worried, a little bit, with just Logan here I can't tell what will walk through the doors."

"Mr. Logan knows to go ease on you all while I'm away," Hope said, opening the gate and letting Jean through first, "If he doesn't you call me and I'll talk with him."

"I've seen you with Logan," Hope froze for a second. Jean had seen her and Logan together? "That time you yelled at him for pushing Berserker too far and stopping his heart." Hope let out a sigh, that was what Jean had been talking about. Not that she and Logan had anything together anyway, just a little tension.

"Well, I use to deal with frustrating people all the time back when I worked trauma. I yelled at people much more intimidating that Mr. Logan."

"It's hard to believe there's someone more intimidating than Logan," Jean joked, and Hope laughed.

"Oh, I had a three hundred pound Neo-Nazi come in once, and all of those pounds were muscle. We had to tie him to the bed, and when he broke the restraints we sedated him. All the while I'm yelling at him, telling him to stop moving, lye still and where does it hurt. We were happy to see him go," Hope said, remembering how the man had come in swinging and left in handcuffs.

"What happened to land him there?"

"Drunk ran at a window where a display of rap music was. Apparently it offend his believes," Hope managed to say through chuckles. The whole incident had been frustrating and for some reason looking back now she found it funny. For it being late in the afternoon, down town Bayville was surprisingly quiet. A few cars rolled down Main Street, a few people braved the cold, but mostly the streets were empty. It was a peaceful winter afternoon, and for a moment idly chatting with Jean while she walked Hope could forget about the turmoil of the outside world. She got the same sensation at the Chandler mansion when she'd sit out on the front porch. Outside the post office, lining one wall were PO box after PO box. Hope's was in the middle, one of the lower boxes and she jingled the keys in her pocket as she approached.

"Wait," Jean called, and Hope frowned at her over her shoulder.

"Jean, please," Hope knew she was scolding, but it was just her PO box.

"No, something's wrong," Jean put a hand to her head, "Really, Doctor Chandler, something's wrong." Hope sighed, put her keys back in her pocket and turned towards Jean.

"Is the Professor calling for you? Am I needed?" Hope said, calmly, believing it was something important.

"Get down!" Jean yelled, and then was drowned out in a violent whoosh of noise. Hope was thrown forward, landing hard on the sidewalk as a wave of heat rushed over her. She saw Jean lying in front of her, and Hope could see she was holding back flames and what looked like carpet tacks. A bomb, Hope thought, numb for a second, someone set off a bomb. Then she was scrambling for her cell phone, dialing 911 and asking for the police.

"Please, I need an ambulance, and the fire depart and police!" She said to the operator, trying to be calm as Jean helped her to her feet, "At the post office, down town, right away please."

"Alright, what seems to be the problem?" The reasonable voice of the operator made Hope take a deep breath.

"A bomb went off," Hope turned to look at the post office, there was a gaping hole in the wall of PO boxes and Hope's was gone completely. Some one hand placed a bomb in her PO box, Hope realized. Feeling numb again Hope felt her knees going weak.

"Here, let me," Jean said gently, taking the phone from Hope, and easing her to the curb. Oh god, if Jean hadn't been with her, she'd have opened the box and gotten the full force of the bomb. Jean kneeled down in front of Hope, looking calm and composed, unlike Hope.

"Are you hurt, Dr. Chandler?" She asked, and Hope shook her head.

"No, just a few scrapes from the fall," Hope held out her hands, palms up where the gloves had been torn and underneath her skin was an angry red color.

"And your powers?" Jean said softly, "That's under control?" Hope blinked, her power?

"Oh, that, well, I haven't sparked have I?" Hope pulled off her glove, "Well, I guess it's a little uneasy." Her hand was coursing with tiny bolts of white, her power was acting as started as she was. Taking a deep breath she concentrated hard on relaxing and as she settled the bolts began to disappear. Sirens started getting louder and louder, until the flashing lights of emergency vehicles were all around Hope and Jean.

"Pardon me," A police officer said, "Are any of you injured?"

"No, we're fine," Hope said, taking charge of herself and the situation. The officer nodded, then edged around Hope and Jean to steer them away from the scene.

"Can you tell me what happened?" The officer asked, once they were far enough away.

"I was going to check my mail," Hope started, "I have a PO box here."

"And the bomb went off before you had a chance to open the box?"

"Yes, I was just there." Hope pointed a few feet away from the gaping hole, "When it went off."

"I'm going to have to take you down to the station," The officer fixed a look on both of them, "We'll need statements and names." Hope nodded, as did Jean and the officer showed them to a patrol car.

"You did good," Hope whispered to Jean as they rode towards the police station, "Thank you for saving me."

"It's okay, Doc," Jean whispered back, "That's what I'm trained to do."

"Well, I would have ended up looking like Swiss cheese without you," Hope took Jean's hand in hers, "I can't thank you enough." Jean smiled brightly back. "They're going to ask why there's such little damage."

The smile faded, "I tried to contain it, that's all."

"I know, but they're going to ask a lot of questions," Hope glared at the back of the police officers head, "You're old enough to be questioned alone, but once they figure out I was the target."

"You can't be sure of that," Jean gasped.

"Oh, I can, with the way things are in Washington, and my very public image as a mutant supporting mutant rights, it's most likely I was the target." It was anger now that Hope was feeling, how dare someone risk innocent lives just to get at her. She'd prefer her death threats to be personal, such as a bullet or something of the like. Actually, she'd prefer no death threats at all. Once they reached the police station, the officer ushered them to a desk, where another chair was pulled up and they were told to sit and wait for a detective who would take their statements.

"We should call the Professor," Hope said after a few minutes of sitting there.

"I told him," Jean said, "He and Logan are on their way."

"Why Mr. Logan?"

"Driving," Jean answered, watching the passing officers. They sat for almost an hour before a lanky man of about six feet tall walked towards them. His suit was rumpled, his hair untidy brown, and his nose was tilted to the left, probably it had been broken.

"Sorry, just got back from the scene," the detective said, "Uh, so let's start with you, miss. What's your name?"

"Dr. Hope Chandler," Even though the detective had been talking to Jean, Hope went first. She didn't know if Jean had any experience with police, but she'd given statements about patients to police before, and when she'd been found after Magneto had kidnapped her. She also wanted to give Jean more time to prepare herself for the questions by hearing them asked to Hope.

"Oh, hey, a celebrity. Nice to meet you Doctor," The detective was actually pretty pleasant, of course he'd frown when Jean said she had used her powers, but just frowned. Hope had to admit she was surprised; this guy was being polite and nice, about this, when she'd been expecting blame. How, odd that something like that should make her suspicious.

"Well, here's what we think so far," The detective said, leaning back in his chair, "Because the bomb squad hasn't had a chance to look over the evidence in detail the best they got is it was a time bomb, or a remote bomb. You check you mail the same time every day, Doctor?"

"No, just whenever I can spare a few minutes."

"Alright," The detective scribbled down a few notes on a pad of paper, "Any threats in the mail, phone calls?"

"No, nothing," Hope said shaking her head.

"Well then," The detective flipped his notebook closed, "If there's anything else, we'll be giving you a call. Got any trips planed, we have to be able to reach you, you know."

"Oh, yes, actually I have to speak before Congress. I'll write down the number for you." Hope quickly jotted the number of her cell phone and hotels down.

"You're free to go, Doctor, Miss. Gray." Hope sighed as she walked back towards the entrance with Jean, she had the beginnings of a head ach and her stomach was grumbling loudly. Charles and Logan were waiting outside, the limo's engine humming.

"You're alright, Doctor, Jean?" Charles asked once Jean and her had settled into the limo.

"Yes," Jean said first, and Hope nodded in agreement.

"Good, well, I can tell you that every anti mutant group who has seen the news reports is taking credit for it," Charles said, "It seems you're a very popular target."

"I figured that part out," Hope sighed, "Has the Institute received any threats?"

"None, and once Jean contacted me we locked the Institute down."

"You'll want to lock me up too, I take it," Hope said resigned, "I'll cancel my travel plans."

"Not necessarily, Doctor, we'll talk more in my office once we get back." Hope nodded, and Charles shifted his attention to Jean, "You did very well, Jean."

"Thank you, Professor," Jean said, a genuine smile on her face for the first time since they'd been hauled into the police station.

------

Hope and Jean were greeted with concern, warm smiles and cold sandwiches from Hank. And while the students escorted off Jean, Hope was instantly herded into Charles's office with the other instructors. She settled into one of the armchairs, and waited for the arguments to begin.

"We'd like you to leave for Washington tonight," Charles said, and Hope almost choked on her sandwich.

"Pardon?" She gapped, astonished with the finality which Charles had said the statement.

"We want you under FBI protection, they won't come here," Hank explained, "With the bomb threat here, we believe that it would be what is best for you."

"There's only two days before Hank and I go to Washington, do you honestly believe that in those two days this bomber will try for me again?"

"What we believe is irrelative," Charles said, raising a hand as Logan opened his mouth to speak, "What's important is that the bomber won't know you've left early, and in Washington you will be safe."

"I haven't packed, I have notes to get together for my presentation," Hope frown, "I can't leave."

"You'll go," Snapped Logan, "You want the Institute to be this guy's next target?" Hope paused, Logan had a point, the public knew she worked at the Institute and if this bomber had private information, like her PO box number, he might make a move on the Institute. Humbled, Hope looked down at her lap.

"You can leave in the morning, to give you more time to get ready, Dr. Chandler," Charles said, more sympathetic than Logan's snap.

"Alright, thank you. I'd like to get started now." Hope rose, "I'll bring my bags down to the hanger tonight, so I'll be able to leave right away tomorrow." Hope cast a smile around the room before she left.

"Well, quite a nice way to put it, Logan," Hank said sarcastically, "She'll be angry at you before long. I'll go talk with her."

"I'm going to prepare the Velocity," Ororo said, rising from her seat, "Must make sure everything is working in top condition in case someone makes an attempt on it. Come on Hank, I'll walk with you." Charles and Logan watch the two leave, talking quietly with one another.

"Anger won't help you get on her good side, you know, old friend," Charles said, slightly smiling.

"She doesn't need someone to sugar coat this," Logan growled, "Who cares anyway what she thinks?" Charles smile widened as he watched Logan march from the room, shoulders stiff.

"My old friend, it's nice to see someone's getting through to you."

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"You'll go," Hope muttered, throwing more clothes into a suitcase, "Who does he think he is?" She glared into the collection of suits hanging in her closet.

"I've heard talking to yourself is a sign of insanity," Hank commented when Hope turned around holding an arm full of suits.

"Well, I must be crazy," Hope snapped, throwing the suits down on her bed, then braced her self on her arms, "What do you want, Hank?"

"First off, I can't leave with you tomorrow."

"What?"

"I'm rather noticeable, and with two days for you to do nothing but wander in the city," Hank explained, "The anti-mutant groups would notice you in a second."

"Everyone who gets Time magazine will know my face," Hope reasoned.

"Yes, but with me along they'll notice you much quicker. We're trying to protect you, Hope."

"I don't want to be protected!" Hope yelled, "I'm sick and tried of being pushed into a corner every time some one comes after me."

"Hope, please," Hank tried to cut in, but Hope was feeling the anger, and for once let it ride.

"Yes, with out Jean I would have been killed today, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless. I know how dangerous these times are, I've had friends die and even after threats they didn't hide. I…" Hope broke off with a groan, and rubbed her temples, "Great, a stress headache." Hope sat on her bed, "Just go Hank, I'm in no mood for company." When Hank placed a hand on her shoulder, Hope just shrugged it off. She didn't want anyone around, not when her head was steadily aching. It wasn't common for her to get headaches, but when they came, they came with a lot of force. Only now, they were dangerous, now. Hope waited until she heard the door close before letting go. Her power raced outwards, bolts skittering here and there as she battled the pain. She hated that just the little pain of a headache could make her lose control, but that's the way it was. The headaches never lasted long though, and after a minute it was gone, and Hope regained control. Of course she was also exhausted, now. She pushed her suitcase off the bed, along with the suits and curled up fully clothed. She'd just take a few minutes to regain her strength, and then she'd be all right to start packing again.

------

Author's Note: Sigh, I wish I had more time to write. Every time I tried to sit down and take a minute to work on this, someone or something would call me away. My job at a summer camp is taking up so much time, but the kids are nice. I've been writing this on paper, then running down to the local library to type it up and post it. So, if things take a little longer than normal, you'll know why. Thanks for your patience, and reviews!

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	3. Chapter Three

Hope Returns

Chapter Three

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: Once again thanks to all those who reviewed, and I really have to thank one person in particular. Wolviesfan you are the best reviewer I have. Even though I have these little mistakes, which you never fail to miss, you still think my story is good and keep reading it. Thanks so much! All right, well, please enjoy this chapter, I tried to make it a little more interesting than the last. Also please read and review.

Lily

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Hope woke the next morning groggy and a little disoriented. When she sat up the room spun for a second before settling. It was the first time the headaches had caused dizziness and disorientation, but Hope shook it off. Probably it was because she hadn't slept very well, she kept tossing and turning with half formed dreams dancing through her head. With little rest Hope started to repack, with more care than she had exercised last night. Just thinking about it made her embarrassed, she hadn't been thinking about what she said to the other instructors, especially Hank. She'd quickly apologize to him before they shipped her off to Washington. Hope sighed, carefully smoothing the wrinkles from a blouse, she should make the best of it. Adapt to change, it was the only thing she could do, which wasn't a major bother to her. She was use to change, she'd dealt with a lot of it in the past year. She just had to change her attitude towards this, and then ride it out. She'd call her sister, Thea, who ran the Baltimore office of Chandler Shipping. She would see if they could get together for a day. Thinking happily of her younger sister Hope finished packing with a smile, she tossed on her jacket, and picked up the most important piece of baggage, her briefcase with all her notes and her laptop. The Institute was quiet, the students still asleep, and probably most of the instructors still asleep also. Hope stepped into the elevator, rode down to the hanger level, and stepped off to see Hank waiting for her.

"I was just coming to get you," He said, smiling.

"Hank, I'm sorry for the way I acted last night," Hope started, but Hank just picked up her suitcase with one hand and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"It was hard night for you, Hope, it's perfectly alright," He said, leading her towards the Velocity, "I never took it personally."

Hope sighed in relief, she'd hate to have alienated Hank, "And we got in contact with the two FBI agents who will be escorting you. Agents Akelm and Wayne will be meeting you at the airport and take over your care."

"Two agents?"

"They work in six hour shifts, actually you'll have four teams of agents. It will be cut down to two when Ororo, Charles and I join you."

"Do they really think this is necessary?" Hope said, astonished.

"Originally you had around the clock protection of four agents, Charles talked them down after a few hours," Hank explained, stopping by the stairs, "Logan's piloting, so I suggest head phones and a good book."

"Hank!" Hope laughed, then bent down and hugged him, "I'll call you to check in so you don't harass the FBI."

"Be safe, Hope, be safe." Hank handed her suitcase over, and Hope started up the stairs. Logan was waiting just inside the jet, without a word he took the suitcase and went to go store it. Hope settled in a seat in the back of the helicopter, ready to catch up on the latest articles on X-gene research during the flight. She curled her legs underneath her, propped her head on her hand and started reading.

Outside in the hanger Hank watched as the Velocity prepared to take off, a frown tight on his face. Charles had appeared a few minutes after Hope had boarded, and now was next to Hank.

"Logan will be meeting with Fury after he's done at Baltimore airport?" Hank asked as the hanger doors opened and the Velocity's blades started to spin.

"He'll have to stay a day in Boston, actually, where Fury has agreed to meet with him."

"A day? Why won't Fury meet with him today?"

"Logan didn't say, but the police want to talk with Hope, they're at the front door."

"Do they know she's leaving?"

"Yes, they're trying to get a warrant to ground the flight," Charles sounded annoyed and a little frustrated.

"What? Why?"

"Apparently she didn't talk with a detective last night about the bombing."

"But then, who? Do you think it was Mystique? What could she care about a bombing?"

------

Turns out Mystique didn't care about the bombing, what she cared about was where the doctor was going in Washington and now that she knew the doctor's travel plans, she was waiting. The Baltimore airport was cold and standing out on the tarmac while waiting for the jet or whatever was flying the doctor to her was getting on her nerves. She would be keeping an eye on the doctor, every hour of the day, until someone found her out or the real target came into view. She didn't want the doctor, but who the doctor could get her close to. She'd played the roll of the friendly detective, easily keeping her thoughts tuned to what little she knew of police work to keep the red head psychic from getting suspicious and to keep the doctor talking. The PO box bomb, she didn't give a rat's ass about that, it was just a means to an end. She'd disguised herself as a mailman, gotten a set of keys and deposited the package. The doctor wasn't supposed to stop at the box that night, the timed bomb was suppose to go off, and then Mystique, playing the detective and asking questions. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, so she'd adjusted her disguise to go unnoticed in the police station. Surprisingly simple, really, the police should be more alert, she thought. Her new disguise was Margaret Wayne, a low level, but smart FBI agent who with her partner, Peter Akelm were the first team of agents to look out for the doctor's well being while she was in Washington. Apparently, her new skin was a nice pleasant individual who liked to drink herbal tea and was a vegetarian. She was also a mutant sympathizer, positively thrilled when she heard she was going to be able to talk with _the _Dr. Chandler. She disgusted Mystique, but she wasn't supposed to like her skin, just use it.

"Ah, that looks like them," Akelm said, crushing out his cigarette while Velocity descended towards them.

"Great," Mystique plastered a stupid grin on Wayne's face, "I can't wait!"

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"We're landing in twenty, Doc," Logan called. Hope made a noise for an answer and finished the sentence she was reading. The article was fascinating, polypeptides and aminoacides all of it relating to how the DNA sequence may just be twisted wrong, but the effect wasn't a birth defect, but the infamous X-gene. Hope's chemistry and biology were in peak form due to the articles, but she doubted this one, a DNA stand that was twisted wrong seemed too unlikely and probably wouldn't be a mutant power. Hope slid the article back into her briefcase, uncurled her legs and stretched while the jet began to drop. It looked to be chilly in Baltimore, windy too by the looks of the snow blowing around. Hope was one for winter, but wind chill and chapped lips weren't her cup of tea. She'd have to stop somewhere for Chap Stick, more lotion too. Hope mentally started to make a shopping list while she watched the city through her window. Maybe she'd even cruise through some of Washington's high-end shops for clothes, she loved shopping for clothes. The Velocity was buffered by winds as it descended, making the landing rather rough. Hope held on to the arm rests while the helicopter carefully touched down.

"Right Doc, we're here," Logan said, standing up from the pilot's seat. "I'll get your bag."

"Thank you, Logan," Hope said, sliding out from her seat and waiting by the door. When Logan returned he handed over her bag, and then reached a hand out for the door latch, but he didn't open it. He stood there, which made Hope frown, what was going on? Logan let go of the latch, then cupped the back of her neck in his hands. Surprised, Hope let him pull her forward, and kiss her gently. It was a surprisingly tender kiss, but just as she started to enjoy it, Logan pulled away.

"Watch your back, Doc," He said quickly, opening the door, and stepping aside.

"Uh, I will," She said, blinking away the remaining fog in her brain and then started down the steps. Waiting at the bottom of them was a man and a woman, dressed in business suits and while the man looked grim, the woman was smiling cheerily.

"Dr. Chandler?" The woman asked, stepping forward when Hope dropped down from the last step.

"Yes, who are you?" She asked, letting the man take her bag.

"I'm Agent Wayne, this is my partner, Agent Akelm, we're the first team of FBI agents who's going to keep an eye on you while you're here," The woman explained, her accent slightly Texan.

"Oh, thank you," Hope said a little unsure of what to say to the perky agent.

"We've got our car waiting not far," Agent Wayne went on, "We'll talk more about what's to be expected once we're inside it and out of this cold. Amazing how bad it can get, even when it's not snowing, huh Doctor?"

"Yes, it's not this bad back in Bayville," Hope muttered, not really paying attention. Her mind was still back in the Velocity, wondering about the kiss. She wasn't use to Logan showing such tenderness to her. Those 'what the hell are we doing?' kisses that were all fire and power she could handle pretty well. She was use to those, but that tender hesitance, was…nice. Hope was surprised that a kiss like that one could make her blush and stammer, more than the rough ones. It was her romantic heart, she reasoned, a romantic kiss like that made her romantic heart sigh with happiness and feel things it shouldn't feel.

"Here you go Doctor," Agent Wayne said, holding open the door to a beat up, old, maroon Mercedes.

"Thank you," Hope said again, sliding inside the idling car. Agent Wayne closed the door, then walked around to the passenger side, and slid in. Agent Akelm tossed her suitcase into the trunk, then walked around to the driver's side and climbed in, all with out a word or second glance at Hope.

"Well, Dr. Chandler, I don't know if you've ever been under FBI watch before, but it's not really as bad as they make it out in the movies," Agent Wayne said, meeting Hope's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"If there's anything I can do to take your job easier, just tell me," Hope smiled back.

"Oh, great, last person Akelm and I had to watch hated being under constant supervision," Agent Wayne rolled her eyes, "Anyway, if you want to go anywhere, you tell me or Akelm, and we'll go with you. At the hotel, our room is right next to yours, so, we'll be in easy reach if you need us. At any events you have to go to, we'll be with you, or one of the other agent teams. Just depends on what shift it happens to fall at."

"Alright, I think I can handle that."

"Great, we're going to the hotel first, get you settled in, call the boss man and check in first. Then, whatever you want to do, within some limits, we'll do."

"I'd to call my sister and see if we can't get together while I'm here. Also there's just a few things I need to get from the super market."

"Make a list, Akelm will go get them while you put your stuff away and call you sister," Agent Wayne said, patting Agent Akelm on his shoulder, "He likes pretending that he's tough with his brooding, scowling silent treatment, but he's a softy on the inside. Aren't you Akelm?"

Hope laughed, "If there's one thing I know how to handle it's brooding silence."

------

He smiled, watching the helicopter and the doctor as she descended the stairs. It was nice to have her here early, that meant he could take the next step in his plan. He'd have to thank the bomber who scared her into coming early, if he ever found the bomber, but his men were looking and they were good, very good at finding people. The doctor smiled at his inside man while he took the bag, and it made him smile. Once this shift was over his man would bow out for a bit, claiming a date or important meeting. They'd meet somewhere where they wouldn't be noticed, then talk about the Doctor's plans for the weeks she was here. If he was lucky, he'd have his hands on her before she got to Congress. She was the biggest threat to everything he'd been working for, people actually respected the freak and her work. Even though they knew she was…unnatural. God didn't intend for woman to be doctors, much less a mutant woman. They'd all burn in hell when the time came, but it was his mission to stop them now, and protect humanity from their unnatural ways.

"I can't wait to meet you, Doctor," He said quietly under his breath, lowering the binoculars, "We'll have so much to talk about."

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Author's Note: How many of you thought I forgot about our mysterious friend from chapter one? Well, I didn't, and he's back being terrifyingly creepy. I hope his character, and his little speech above doesn't offend anyone and if it does, I apologize. His character is one to be hated, and what he says I don't really mean. Please, don't get angry with me, get angry with him. Anyway, what can you expect in the next chapter? Well, we meet Thea, Hope's sister, there's the meeting with Fury, and more Mystique. Wonder who she could be after? Anyway, please read and review.


	4. Chapter Four

Hope Returns

Chapter Four

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: I have to say, I'm trying really hard to heat up the plot in this chapter. I know the story is moving kind of slowly, but that's just because there's a lot of little details to get in so some of your more astute readers can maybe figure out what's going to happen. Please enjoy and read and review.

Lily

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Logan tucked himself into a small corner booth in the back of Last Drop, the Boston coffee house where he was suppose to meet with Fury. He ordered a large cup of black coffee from a pale-faced waiter and settled back to watch the door. His training made him watch everyone in the room, the morning crowd looked to be mostly businessmen, a lot of them, stopping in quickly for a morning cup. There was a group of college students in the opposite corner, a mountain of books spread out between them while they laughed and joked. Some soccer moms getting a cup and a bagel before heading out to do the shopping were milling around at tables or the coffee bar while reading the morning paper. Then there was him, he didn't exactly blend in, but those who passed him didn't glance twice at him, and if they looked to take the seat across from him a scowl or glare sent them packing. He didn't like having to wait for Fury, he didn't like having to wait for anyone, but it ticked him off that his old boss still made him wait. He had to give it to Fury though, agreeing to meet with him was giving a little ground, but Logan knew Fury wasn't coming because of his charming personality. The Doc had charmed the old guy, which wasn't surprising, the Doc charmed most people. If Fury thought the Doc was in danger, he'd come running. Logan found himself frowning into his coffee, why did it bother him that someone else would come running to rescue the Doc? Not that he wouldn't charge in, too, but he'd saved a lot of people in his time, adding the Doc to that list wasn't something spectacular. Except he hadn't kissed the people he rescued. Don't think about it, he ordered himself that brings nothing but trouble. The door to the coffee house opened, a tinkle of bells and the traffic noise signaled it and had Logan glancing over the rim of his cup. Fury was dressed conservatively in civilian clothes, his eye patch hidden under the brim of a hat. Odd how they'd both chosen cowboy hats to tilt over their eyes and hide any noticeable or memorable features. Fury spotted Logan instantly, his trained eyes focusing in on him right away. With clear purpose Fury strode his way, not bothering to glance anywhere now that he had his target in sight.

"Nice to see you, Logan," Fury said, sitting down across from him.

"This isn't a friendly visit, Patch," Logan muttered, setting his cup down.

"When are they? Alright, what do you want to know?"

"What do you know about Wilson Trask?"

"His name's Jason, Logan, or is your memory finally starting to go?"

"I know what I'm talking about, Fury," Logan growled, "the Doc got an invitation to some sort of party hosted by some guy name Wilson Trask. I'm not one to believe in coincidence."

"Hmm, neither am I, but everything we have on Jason Trask, you have since the Sentinel incident," Fury explained quietly, "There's no record of him having any living relatives. Parents died a couple years before he join us, no brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles."

"Yeah, read the file before coming here," Logan sighed, "How about an affair? Did he take any personal days? Or what about missions, he get too close to a fellow operative?"

"Personal days would be in his performance record, and you know the rules Logan, no one gets too close to a fellow operative."

"Yeah, and we saw this guy's got a good respect for the rules," Logan snorted, "Do a favor for the Doc, look this guy up. She's going to this meeting thing in a day, and I don't want her walking into the arms of a mutant hater."

One corner of Fury's mouth titled up, "You think I can get everything there is on this guy with a day to look into him?"

"Get enough so we don't get a ransom note or a body back from this party," Logan ordered, rising from the table, "You like the Doc, you'll be able to get that much."

Fury waited until Logan was gone, he'd left him with the bill and a little to think about. For all of Logan's surly-ness he'd never made an order like that one before. He'd note it down in the file they still kept on Weapon X, Dr. Chandler's well being was a button they could push if they ever needed him. Fury smiled, picked up Logan's discarded cup and took a sip. He'd do what Logan asked, he didn't like coincidence either, but it would cost Logan, later on.

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If Hope had known she was being discussed in the back corner of a Boston coffee house she may not have been so excited, but she didn't know so excitement reined. She was sitting at a window table of an excellent French restaurant in Baltimore, waiting for her sister. She'd called Thea as soon as she'd finished putting her clothes away and they'd talked for hours. They'd agreed that a day in Baltimore's finest shops would give them both a stress free day, and that meeting for breakfast at the restaurant would satisfy the two agents with Hope. It was public, but not packed, so the agents sat at the table behind Hope. She could feel their eyes on her. When she'd woken up this morning they'd been waiting in the room next to hers, they're names were Roberts and Daniels, or something of the like. She was having a hard time remembering all the agents that had been introduced to her. They were two silent, tall, grim faced agents who had in mater of fact style gone over every detail of their six hour shift with Hope. It had been possibly the most boring hour of Hope's life. Only men could make talking about what stores Hope wanted to shop at seem boring. Now though, they were chatting quietly behind her, while she watched the door for Thea. Her sister was a lot like her mother, small and delicate looking, but with her father's famous Chandler temper. Her hair was cut short and business like, a few shades lighter than Hope's, but her sister's eyes were gray instead of brown or green. A recessive trait in the Chandler line, Thea Angelica Chandler barely looked like a member of the family, but ran one of the largest branches of the Chandler Shipping empire and she was Hope's baby sister. With an age difference of five years Hope had taken care of Thea sometimes when the nanny needed a break or Thea had girl problems. Hope adored her baby sister, loved spending time with her and taking care of her. When she walked through the door Hope was on her feet in a second and waving an arm towards her.

"Thea! Thea!" She called, and her sister turned towards her and within seconds they were hugging, "It's so good to see you again!" Hope said when she held her sister an arm length away.

"Michael called me last night, he sends his love and ask why you haven't called in a while," Thea said, taking the seat across from Hope.

"He should know I've been busy with work," Hope said waving away her brother's concern, "And anyway, what's wrong with his phone? If he wants to talk he can call me."

Thea chuckled while looking over the menu, "I told him the same thing. Anyway, Mom's a little worried about you too, saw the news last night."

"Oh no," Hope groaned.

"Oh yes, and since I check in every night with Mom she went on and on about how you should move somewhere else. That boarding school is too dangerous, and I quote."

"The Institute is probably the safest place in the world for me, I've got Hank and Charles to watch out for me."

"Yes, but she didn't listen to me when I explained that too her," Thea said, "But you know Mom, she doesn't believe either of us can take care of ourselves."

"Right," Hope placed in orders with a waiter in French then turned to her sister for some serious gossip, "So tell me, are you still dating David what's his name?"

"Ugh, now that was a tragedy waiting to happen, why didn't you tell me he was a jerk?" Thea groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I did, if I remember correctly, now, details woman, I want to know every sordid little detail." The gossip flowed between the sisters like water over breakfast. They covered everything, from the latest movies to the latest love interest a topic that Hope was quite tight lipped about.

"Oh, come on Hope," Thea pleaded, "There has to be someone. You've been going to all these dinners and symposiums and you want me to believe there isn't anyone your interested in? Not some brainy but studly doctor or scientist?"

"My whole life is work, I don't have time for a relationship," Hope said trying to explain away the topic, "Much less the inclination."

"You are such a bore, sis," Thea laughed, "I can tell there's someone, you just don't wait to talk about him. That's fine keep him a secret, I'll get it from Mom when you tell her."

"Mom won't know any sooner than you," Hope challenged.

"Mom will know because she's Mom." Hope sighed, Thea had a point, mother always some how found out.

"Well, what do you say we go shopping? I've got to find a nice pair of ear rings and maybe a new suit or skirt for Congress." Hope said getting to her feet, Thea followed suit and so did the agents and they started for their cars. The first stop was a little dress shop not to far from the restaurant, while Hope didn't find anything to her taste, Thea bought three jewel toned blouses. It wasn't until the third shop that Hope found exactly what she was looking for. It was a pin stripe skirt suit, with light blue stripes.

"Oh, you look so respectable," Thea sighed, "And professional. Are you going to wear your doctor's coat too? With that dark blue collared shirt the white won't wash you out too much."

"I don't know, I've got a gold caduceus pin along with a silver one for the Institute, I was thinking about wearing those. Show my doctor status and support for the Institute," Hope commented, turning this way and that while watching herself in the mirror. "What do you think about the hair? Leave it down?"

"How professional do you want to look?" Thea asked, coming up behind Hope and scooping her hair up, "You put it in the school marm bun and those conservative senators are going to be happy, but you might lose a few of the liberals."

"I should get some new reading glasses too, something silver and thin," Hope murmured, "My gold ones won't work at all."

"Right, get out of the suit, buy it and I know a great glasses boutique down the street." Hope went back into the dressing room and started on the buttons on the jacket, "So, what can you tell me about this Congress thing?" Thea asked through the door.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Tell me about these bills, I get that they'd limit the use of mutant powers, and instate a national registry, but I don't know anything else. I mean, why are mutants protesting these, they seem perfectly logical to me."

"A lot of mutants value their privacy," Hope said, sliding out of the skirt, "A registry would invade that, also why limit a mutant's use of power if they're perfectly harmless? I know mutants who's powers can't do anything to harm anyone."

"But, there's that gang of mutants, what do they call themselves?"

"The Brotherhood? They're punks, with nothing better to do than cause trouble," Hope slid back into her pants, "Anyway, the X-men handle them."

"Along with you," Thea chuckled, "Remember when you and the X-men stopped them from destroying that bank? You snuck up behind that big one and injected him with something."

"A large amount of a mild sedative," Hope said, folding the suit over her arm, stepped out of the dressing room, "Most people weren't happy I did that."

"What? He was going to crush that girl with the brown hair, you saved her."

"Kitty has the ability to pass through solid objects, and I'm not suppose to get involved with the fights," Hope explained, carrying the suit to the register, "I'm the on scene doctor, and only that. I'm not supposed to take stupid risk." Hope repeated the words Logan had said to her after the fight. He'd made Scott fly the jet, plucked her out of her seat and dragged her into the back of the jet. A nice argument had started between them, Hope going toe to toe with Logan as they argued back and forth. In the end they'd both done nothing but yell at each other, and stormed back to their seats, seething. The students had exchanged looks with each other along with whispers, but said nothing. Hope had seethed for hours, it was still a touchy subject between them.

"Well, I'd say if you can do something to help, do it," Thea said as Hope handed over the check she wrote for the suit and took the bag.

"That was my point," Hope muttered, then followed Thea out the door into the cold. The agents were still trailing behind her, looking really put off that this was their shift, shopping with two gossipy women. Well, Hope thought, it was better than sitting in the hotel room all day. At the sound of a speeding engine Hope stopped and looked over her shoulder. A big black Jeep came racing down the street, the passenger side window rolled down, and then the barrel of a gun appeared.

"Get down!" One of the agents yelled from behind her, and then tackled her to the ground. A few seconds later gunfire shattered the window above her head. She could see Thea on the ground across from her, the second agent covering her and found a little irony in that only yesterday it had been Jean lying across from her.

"Dr. Chandler, we're going back to the hotel, you want to go shopping, you use e-bay like everyone else," the agent who was on top of her said.

"Damn," Hope replied, but had no time for anything else as she was herded into a blue Ford and driven away from the street at top speed. She pulled out her cell phone and called her sister.

"I'm sorry, Thea, are you alright?" Hope asked, looking over her shoulder back towards the restaurant.

"Yeah, I'm fine, how about you?"

"Perfect," Hope snorted, "Maybe you can come to Bayville next time and get shot at there."

"Oh, don't worry, now that this happened I know Mom's going to get me a body guard like she'd been threatening for years to do."

"Sorry, Thea, really, about all of this," Hope said again.

"Just don't get hurt, and I'll forgive you," Thea said, "I'd better call the office and tell them I'll be in today after all." Hope closed the phone, and leaned her head back. The Institute was going to find out about this, they were going to call and she'd have to explain how coming early was not a good idea, she'd just work in her hotel room and live off of room service. She probably wouldn't be able to go to the talk she had come early for now. Until the talk with Congress she'd get trapped inside her room, like a grounded child. Well, she'd call in the Institute once she got back to the hotel. She'd let the agents talk with Charles first, they'd want to anyway, and then she'd enjoy explaining everything.

------

The agents actually didn't talk very long with Charles, they gave a very short and to the point description of what happened and then held the phone out to her, "Wants to talk to you."

"Hello, Charles," Hope said.

"Hello Doctor, it's nice to hear from you."

Hope sighed, "I know, I should have been more careful."

"Well, as long as you concede that point, I can't see any reason why you're not safe now that you know better," Charles said.

"Well, so, you won't be coming to join me?"

"Would you like me to, Dr. Chandler?"

"No, uh, no I think I'm fine by myself."

"Then Doctor, with the FBI watching out for you, and with yourself on guard, I think it's alright for you to stay on your own."

"Thank you, Charles."

"As long as you're careful, Doctor. I'd expect a call from Hank once he finishes with his work."

"I'd counted on that," Hope said, "Good bye Professor." And with a sigh she hung up then flopped onto the couch behind her.

"We're going to leave the door open between the rooms, don't answer the door, let one of us." One of the agents said, "If there's trouble call the authorities and stay out of the way." Hope nodded silently, and watched the agents until they went into their room.

"Exactly like a grounded child," Hope muttered to herself, "Guess I should go wax the jet too." She picked up her laptop from the coffee table, and started working. What else was she to do locked in her room like she was? Hank called an hour later, sounding panicked, but Hope just calmly explained the situation to him.

"I'm fine Hank, besides a few bumps and scrapes from getting tackled, I'm not hurt," Hope said sympathetically.

"I was so worried when I heard you'd been shot at," Hank sighed, "It's nice to know the FBI's watching out for you."

"They're doing a very good job of it, too. They didn't let the bellhop come in with lunch, took it in themselves. I think they'll start tasting my food before long just in case these crazies start to try poisoning me."

"That's not funny Hope."

But Hope laughed, "Of course it is," she said, helpless to the urge to goad Hank, "What's that fly that can kill you with just an small amount? Oh right, Spanish fly, that's what I'd use if I wanted to poison someone."

"You really should take this more seriously Hope," Hank scolded, but Hope continued to chuckle.

"I wonder how much Spanish fly cost? If these guys can get the material for a bomb, do you think they have enough to get Spanish fly?"

"Hope," Hank growled in warning.

"All right, all right, I'll stop," She laughed, "Sorry. It was just too easy."

"Well, don't make it too easy for the people after you."

"I promise, Hank, just like I promised Charles, I'm going to be careful."

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Author's Note: I got this chapter out surprisingly quick. It's probably because I have all day to write the ideas that have been flowing through my head lately instead of just when it's breakfast, lunch, dinner and naptime at the camp. I've been working at this camp for two years now, as a junior counselor, now I'm a senior counselor, which leaves me with so little time. The pay's really good though and I get to spend time with children, which I like a lot. Well, I promise to make the next chapter more interesting. Please read and review.


	5. Chapter Five

Hope Returns

Chapter Five

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: Well, I kept talking about that silly talk/symposium thing and now I finally wrote it. It's in this chapter, honestly, I won't just talk about it this time. We meet in infamous Wilson Trask, and more Mystique, because I couldn't work her into the last chapter like I thought I could. As usual, please enjoy, read and review.

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Hope was content, all around her were faces she recognized and standing next to her was Hank. They were standing in the ballroom of the Wyatt hotel, with other scientist and doctors waiting to talk about the latest theories on the X-gene and the socio-political aspects of mutants in a human dominated society. She had chosen a simple white dress and black pearls to wear for tonight's event. She stood out in sharp contrast to Hank, who looked dashing in his black suit. She held a thin flute of champagne delicately in one hand, while she listened with one ear to the conversation around her.

"Excuse me," A young boy, with a camera around his neck popped out of the crowd, "Peter Parker with the Daily Bugle, mind if I take your picture Doctor Chandler?"

"Sure thing," Hope said, smiling at him. She assumed a gracious pose, fixed a polite smile on her lips and let him take a few pictures.

"Thanks a bunch, Doctor," Parker said, and then vanished into the crowd.

"I think you've been the most photographed tonight," Hank said, "That's the third newspaper camera boy who's snapped your picture."

"I have such a handsome date," Hope joked, elbowing Hank in the shoulder. "I'd wish this mingling would end, I'd like to sit down and start arguing."

"Our host is trying to meet everyone, and he's on his way towards us right now," Hank said, watching a tall man in a blue suit and slick brown hair walking towards them with a smile. A smile that Hank and Hope knew was fake, but returned happily.

"Hello, Dr. Chandler," Wilson Trask said, holding out a finely manicured hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Mr. Trask, it's nice to be invited to such a great meeting of minds," Hope said, taking his hand politely, "This is my friend, Hank McCoy."

"Nice to meet you Mr. McCoy," Trask said, taking Hank's hand briefly.

"It's a nice thing you've done here." Hank said, noticing that Wilson slid his hands into his pockets, and seemed to wipe them clean.

"Well, I'm trying to educate the public, but first the best minds who are the most educated have to educate each other," Trask smiled, "Wouldn't you agree Doctor?"

"I'd have to say education is a good goal," Hope said, "But, I think these meetings can only raise more questions and inspire the scientist and doctors to try new directions in their research."

"Have you tried any new directions, Doctor?"

"Actually I haven't made any changes to my studies, I think that my way is a good way," Hope answered.

"Your studies make you more of a psychologist than a doctor, though," Trask interrupted, "You ask questions, but don't perform any test, analyze any DNA. Only later scientists have proven your theories."

"But later scientists wouldn't have even thought about doing those test without Hope's theories," Hank said in defense.

"Right you are, Jack," Trask said, a small smile.

"Hank," he corrected, "It's Hank, not Jack."

"Right, sorry," Wilson said, "Well, I think I see my wife, why don't you two find a seat and we'll get this party started. Excuse me."

"He's slime," Hank said once Wilson Trask was gone.

"Oh, not completely, I think it just comes from spending too much time with politicians and businessmen," Hope said, taking Hank's arm. "Let's go get a seat on the edge, the agents will like that I'm close to an exit." Hope nodded and smiled and responded to greetings as she found a table in the back. The corner table was half in shadow, and once Hope and Hank were seated, agents Akelm and Wayne joined them.

"Man, I haven't seen so many designer dresses and Gucci suits since I watched the last Oscars," Wayne said, her lips split in a big grin.

"Just wait until they start to serve the food," Hope said, enjoying Wayne's excitement. She liked the woman, she was out going a pleasant, "I heard Wolfgang Puck is catering."

"Oh man, just the salad alone is going to be worth this job," Then as if she realized what she had said, quickly added, "Not that there's anything wrong with this job, Dr. Chandler."

"It's alright, Agent Wayne," Hope said "I know this is a boring job."

"Williams and Roberts had the fun shift," She muttered. Hope ignored the comment and paid attention to Trask who was speaking at a podium.

"I think we'll open the most popular topic for mutants, the Mutant restriction and registry bills," Trask was saying, "If you want to speak, please just raise your hand, I'll call on you and stand up and speak your mind." Hands shop up all over the floor, "Mr. Casion, why don't you open the floor."

"Who's that?" Wayne asked, when a short fat man stood.

"He's a bio-chemist, he proved my theory that a mutant's bio-chemistry is altered to the point where most modern medical test won't find things like high blood pressure or diabetes."

"I'd like to start with the registry bill. I think that it has its advantages," Casion said, "With mutants registered in a national database, we can easily make sure they don't create problems." Instantly a furry or responses started to fly, ranging from arguments to agreements. Trask tried to keep order, but it took a few minutes for everyone to calm down.

"Now, Mr. Casion, isn't that a little harsh? Uh, Dr. Lee, do you care to comment?" A tall willowy Asian woman stood.

"She's a sociologist," Hope explained when Wayne looked like she was going to ask, "I know her pretty well. She's talked with Charles and myself a lot about the students at the Institute."

"I believe that these restrictions will only serve to further alienate the mutant population," Dr. Lee said, "Social alienation can only further the angry undercurrent in the mutant population," She was forced to raise her voice as the crowd started talking, "This can only lead to rebellion among the mutant population."

"Oh, come on!" A square faced man stood from his seat, "Some form of social alienation is to be expected, like all people with differences, mutants have to expect some whispers or strange looks. If African Americans or Mexicans can deal with it, so can mutants."

"So we label them?" A woman with short blond hair and a pair of sun glasses perched on her nose said, jumping to her feet, "Do we make them wear little yellow stars like Hitler made the Jews? Dose it start with an identification card, and then move on to concentration camps?"

"The man is Walter Hollins, a high end lawyer who boast he's a specialist in social relations," Hope whispered, "And the woman is Cecelia Richards, I interviewed her at the beginning of my studies."

"She's a mutant?" Hank asked while Richards and Hollins went at it.

"I used the code name Sightless for her, she was born blind, but through a form of echolocation she sees. When people talked she can see, says everything appears like a blue outline, no details," Hope answered.

"Ah yes, you coined it an adaptation X-gene," Hank said.

"A mutation that allows a normally disabled person, such as a blind or deaf person to hear or see," Hope explained to Wayne.

"Dr. Chandler," Richards called out, "You have to agree with me." Hope watched as all eyes swung to her and slowly got to her feet.

"Well, I'd say you both make good arguments," Hope said, "In Cecelia's case, yes the segregation could prove to go too far, but it also can have benefits. Doctors will be able to know they have to treat the patient with different medications."

"And police will suspect mutants, employers will discriminate against them," Cecelia challenged.

"It's to be expected!" Hollins yelled and Hope sat back down.

"We're not going to make any ground here," She said, "People are to opinionated about these bills, and there isn't really a good middle ground."

"If things get too rough, we're gonna move you out of here, Dr. Chandler," Akelm said, which Wayne nodded in agreement too.

"Alright, that's fine."

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Mystique was having a good time; she'd been able to lift several necklaces and watches off passing scientist. While she didn't often lift things, Magneto wasn't funding her little side trip, and she needed money. Pawing the stuff she lifted would give her enough money to survive until Wayne got a paycheck. She was standing by the driver side door of the limo, inside the doctor and that blue bigfoot were chatting away idly, her partner was no where to be seen. Mystique was getting impatient with the silent lug, in fact if he didn't show up soon she was going to drag his stupid ass out here. Yeah, she shouldn't leave the doctor alone, someone might make a move on her, but she had big blue with her for protection. The doctor had mutant powers too, so what harm could come out of it if she went inside and dragged her partner out. She tapped on the passenger window, which opened and she smiled in at the two passengers.

"Something's taking Akelm a little longer than normal," She explained, "I'm gonna go inside and see what's up, he might be in trouble. You'll keep an eye on her won't you?"

"Of course," Blue said, and Mystique slipped away. There wasn't much of the crowd left outside the ballroom, and with most of the people either old or short, her partner was missing. Growling, Mystique went hunting, tracking wasn't her strongest skill, espionage was, but she wanted to get the hell out of here. Thinking men's room, she ducked behind a potted plant and changed. She picked a mix of male features, and dressed herself in a plain gray suit and stepped back out from behind the plant. The men's room was empty, but through an open window she could hear voices. Curious she checked to make sure she was alone and changed into a spider. Skittering across the floor, she climbed up the wall and sat at the opening of the window. Below her she could recognize Akelm, he was talking softly with tonight's host, Wilson Trask.

"Look, the gunner wasn't my idea," Akelm was saying, "Some idiot found out the doctor was here early and thought he could take her out himself."

"I trusted you to control the men," Trask growled, "I do not have the time to go back and make sure they keep their heads."

"I know that."

"Then make sure they're under control, we don't have much time to finalize the plans, in a day, she'll be speaking before Congress, or have you forgotten?"

"No sir, I haven't."

"Good, then tell the men to shut up and wait. If they don't, they don't get in on the mission," Trask ran a hand through his hair, "My father wouldn't have stood for any of this disobedience." Mystique crawled back down from the window, changed back into Agent Wayne and started for the limo. Well, well, well, Agent Akelm was working for Wilson Trask, son of Jason Trask and apparently they were planning something. Not that Mystique cared about them, she had bigger fish to fry, as the saying went. As long as the doctor was able to take her where she needed to go, then whatever those men were planning was fine by her.

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Hope was humming to herself as she scrubbed her hair, trying to block out the nerves. In one more day she was going to stand before the full Congress, hopefully not stutter over her speech and maybe change the world. She didn't like the idea that two little bills were going to have a major impact on an already tense situation. Hope titled her head back and let the hot water cascade over her. She needed a break from the world for…hmm…the next two years would be enough time. Instead she sighed and started to soap up her arms then she heard it. Her laptop or cell phone or some infernal piece of technology was beeping in her room. Hope quickly cleaned her arms off, grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower. She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes, stepped into her room and picked up her cell phone from the nightstand. It wasn't ringing, that meant her laptop was the cause of the beeping. It looked like the video phone hook up Hank had installed in it was getting a call. Hope had protested against the phone, she didn't need it, but Hank had installed it nonetheless to check up on her. She hated the little device; it ate up space on her hard drive, which she could use for something more important, like her notes. She flipped the screen up, and clicked on the little blinking light.

"What?" She asked impatiently, pushing her hair back again and then she noticed who was on the line. Logan's face wasn't impassive, he actually looked positively shocked and he had good reason to be. Hope was wrapped rather loosely in a towel. "Um, hi, uh, is there something wrong?" She asked, tucking the towel tighter around her, wishing she could tuck it up to her neck.

"Uh, no, I was just…just looking for Charles," Logan said, sounding as uncomfortable as Hope felt.

"He's out with a few senators," Hope explained, "He won't be back for a while yet. He's not answering his cell phone?"

"It's off," Logan muttered, "Look, is McCoy there?"

"Out with Ororo, they're talking to some reporters."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"FBI has locked me in my room until I go to Congress," Hope sighed, "You want to leave a message or something?"

"No, just tell Charles to call me back."

"Wait, before you go, can I talk to Jean?" Hope asked, "I'd like to see how she's handling the Infirmary."

"She's in a training session," Logan muttered, his eyes looking over Hope's shoulder.

"Right," Hope frown, Jean was supposed to stay out of training sessions to watch the Infirmary, "What about Kitty then?"

"Training session."

"They're suppose to be excluded from them," Hope glared at the screen, "You and Charles agreed to that."

"Yeah, well, they're going to get rusty, Doc."

"Naturellement il est trop à demander vous pour faire ce que vous avez promis," Hope muttered in French, drumming impatient fingers on her knee. "Oui, et lui est trop pour que vous répondiez au décent habillé par telephone," Logan replied in equally fluent French, which surprised Hope. 

"Can I talk with Jean or Kitty, please?" Hope asked through gritted teeth.

"Right, hang on a second," Logan said and vanished from the screen. Great, speaks French, should have went with Italian. Well I'll remember that for next time. "Here you go." Logan said, and then pushed Jean into the camera view.

"Hi Doctor," Jean said, "Why are you in a towel?"

"Mr. Logan interrupted my shower," Hope answered, "How are you handling everything, Jean?"

"Oh, good. Logan hasn't killed anyone yet, and besides the low level of ice packs, nothing really bad has happened."

"Great, he hasn't over worked Berserker? Because if you need a refresher on the deliberator, I can go over it with you."

"No, if anything Logan's going easy on everyone," Jean looked over her shoulder, then leaned in close to the camera and whispered, "I think he's a little afraid of what you might do to him if you find out anyone gets seriously injured while you're away."

Hope grinned, "He's smart to think that. Are you running low on any medical supplies?"

"Um, I'd have to check."

"If you are, you know where the order forms are, fax them here. I'll sign off on them and then you can send them out," Hope sighed, her head was starting to hurt again, "Alright, thank you Jean, you can go back to training now."

"Doctor, I thought we weren't suppose to train," There was a pleading look in Jean's eye and in her voice, "Will you talk with Logan?"

"I'll see what I can do," Hope said, resisting the urge to rub her temples, "No promises though."

"Thanks, Doctor." With that Jean disappeared off camera, and Logan stepped back in.

"They're going to train like everyone else," He started but Hope waved a hand at the screen, the headache was getting worse and dealing with an argument with Logan was not a good cure for it.

"Right, do what you think is best, Logan, I'll tell Charles you called."

"Doc, is something wro…" Hope clicked the button to hang up and switched off the computer. She had Advil in the bathroom; she'd take some and then nap for a bit. Stress and nerves were never good for you, Hope thought; guess it just finally got to me. She dumped two pills into her hands and tossed them back without water. She let the towel drop and stepped back under the water. She tilted her head back again; taking deep breaths she tried to keep a handle on everything. It was very easy for her to lose focus during headaches she shouldn't let that happen. She leaned forward, bracing her arms on the tiles she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. The pain wasn't so bad with the Advil taking effect, but it was a steady pounding that couldn't be ignored and fighting it made her so tired. Hope turned the shower off, and stepped out again. She wrapped her hair in the towel, along with her body, then lean against the counter. At least she was having a headache now instead of in front of Congress, she thought holding her hands out before her. Keeping control she watched her power leap between her fingers, as more and more bolts appeared she felt her headache lessen. After a minute to two it was completely gone and Hope was exhausted. She walked out of the bathroom and dressed without really thinking about it. She flipped the "do not disturb" sign on her door, climbed on top of the bed and cradled her head in her arms. She started to recite her speech in her head until she drifted off to sleep.

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Logan sat in front of the communications center in the control room for the danger room, waiting for Charles to call. The students were tucked in bed with threats of five-mile runs dancing through their heads if they even thought about getting out for a late night party. He leaned the chair back, propped his feet on the counter and stared at the ceiling. It was nice to have a little piece and quiet. He liked the students, sure who wouldn't? but there was only so much a guy could take. He hustled them out the door every morning, pushed them through training sessions in the afternoon and then hustled them into bed every night. He smiled thinking about the students though, every time he thought about them he couldn't help but smile. He wished one of the other adults had stayed behind though, a little help now and then dealing with the little brats would have been appreciated. Logan sighed and ran his hands over his face. Screw it, he couldn't get the image of the Doc in a towel out of his head. He'd been trying all night to forget about that, mostly thinking about the kids had done it, but sometimes it wasn't enough. If he closed his eyes she'd been there, wet, flushed and…he growled. Not the time to think about these things, later when it was closer to midnight and he couldn't sleep, then he'd think about it. Right now, he thought as he picked up the file Fury had delivered in the middle of the day, he'd think about Wilson Trask. This guy's records seemed too perfect, everything was in its place, and that tipped off Fury and himself that something was wrong. Sure, the Doc had walked away from the dinner thing, but Wilson Trask looked too perfect, even under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s microscope, which meant Fury was drawing out the big guns. There was an upside though, tomorrow the Doc was gonna talk to Congress, and then be shipped back here, where he could keep an eye on her. You're not supposed to think about her, he thought, think about why Charles hasn't called back yet. Dinner with senators shouldn't take that long, and the Doc was pretty good about delivering messages. Logan folded his arms over his chest, if there was something he could do well, it was wait patiently.

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Author's Note: For those of you who actually know French, forgive my bad translations, I'm a German student. I'll admit that I used an on line translator to get the French, even though I know they're useless. What Hope is suppose to be saying is "Naturally it is too much for you to do what your promised" and Logan's response is "Yes, and it is too much for you to answer the phone dressed decently." And I only added Peter Parker because I just saw Spiderman 2, loved it and had him on the brain. Please read and review.

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	6. Chapter Six

A New Hope

Chapter Six

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: For once I don't know what to say here, wow. A little warning here, the language gets a little rough, and there's some violence too. Have I got your attention yet? Please enjoy, read and review.

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Logan was pissed off, he'd been calling Charles all morning, no answer. He'd let Scott make sure everyone got breakfast and went to school, he'd been too busy with dialing Charles. Nothing, not on the cell phone, the hotel room or even the Doc's laptop, and he was quickly getting suspicious. Though he hesitated to use the telepathic link between him and Charles, he had used it and had been completely surprised when he hadn't gotten an answer. He'd checked the news shortly after Charles hadn't answered, no problems in Washington over night, but that didn't explain why Charles hadn't called back, or answered. Logan glanced at his watch, they weren't suppose to speak before Congress for another hour if his guess was correct, so they should still be in the hotel. Picking up the phone he tried the hotel front desk again. "Room 532, please." He growled, the desk cleric recognized his voice and patched him through right away. Nothing, no answer, and Logan slammed the phone down. Thinking swears he remembered from his days in the army he tried every phone again with nothing. Desperate, Logan turned on the television and started flipping through channels. He didn't pay attention to the news, what he read in the paper was sports, weather and just a casual glance at the head lines in case Sabretooth showed up. He didn't have a clue if the Congressional hearings were being televised, but he was better safe than sorry. He found it in a mass of news channels, and the Doc was standing at a podium. Something must have happened to punch up the time of the speeches, he thought, if that was so, why didn't Charles called to tell him him? Logan frown, he had to wait, but he didn't see Wilson Trask sitting in the crowd. That was a good thing; he didn't want any of them getting close to Trask until he got word from Fury about the second search. He leaned back against the counter behind him, folded his arms over his chest and stared at the screen. The Doc looked pretty calm, neat as a pin dressed in her little pin stripe suit, and the senators paying close attention to her. The cameras loved her too, he thought, all of them were doing close up images of her face. He spotted Charles, Ororo and Hank over the Doc's shoulder, everyone looked all right. Still, why hadn't Charles called, that was nagging at him, but without actually going to Washington or waiting for them to get back, he was left dealing with the nagging feeling. Slightly mollified, Logan left the television on to listen to the hearings, might as well see what Charles was going to say, but he sat down at another consol to do work.

"These bills are far reaching," The Doc said, her voice loud and clear, "Other countries are looking to us to decide on how they will handle their own mutants. If the registration bill passes, will the next bill call for segregation?"

"Dr. Chandler, we've asked you here to speak on your experiences in the Xavier Institute." It sounded like a chairperson.

"That's correct, sir," The Doc said still calm, "If you would exercise some patience, I will be getting to that." Logan felt a smile tug at his lips, the Doc had certainly put that guy in his place, "If the restriction bill passes, then mutants all over America will be put in danger. On the level I have seen, working with the students at the Xavier Institute, with the proper training they do not need restrictions. They know the limits and effects of their powers and can exercise restraint and caution. Through my experiences at the Instit…" Logan frown and looked up from his work, the television screen was black, but the channel's logo was still in the lower right hand corner of the screen. He turned around in the chair to watch, a reporter in a newsroom, looking slightly confused, replaced the black screen.

"Uh, well we seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties with our satellite hook up," The reporter said, "We'll see if we can get sound and picture back for you shortly." Logan picked up the remote and started flipping through news channels. Nothing on any of them, every channel it seemed was experiencing some technical difficulties. Something went off in Logan's head, some sort of uneasy feeling that had him getting to his feet and reaching for the phone. Panic went steadily through him, but years of training let him channel it into calm and he dialed without trembling hands and kept one eye on the screen to see if the picture came back.

"This is a private number, access code please," An automated voice said after a few rings.

"Weapon X," Logan growled, then listened to more rings.

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Get me Fury," Logan ordered, "Now."

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"They know the limits and effects of their powers and can exercise restraint and caution. Through my experiences at the Institute," Hope said steadily, glancing only occasionally at her speech, "I have seen the worst of mutant behavior, even with these bills some mutants, because of human behavior and not their genetic makeup, will still be dangerous. The students at the Institute will defend and protect…" BAM! Hope was thrown forward, she went over the podium, and landed on the other side, on her side. Hope coughed, trying to suck back the breath that had been forced from her lungs.

"Hope, are you alright?" Hank said, jumping the distance between them.

"What's going on?" She managed, blinking away tears.

"I don't know, the door, argh!" Hank clutched his shoulder and Hope felt blood splash across her face. She heard gunshots again, and pulled Hank behind the podium.

"Good thing there's a doctor close by, huh?" Hope asked him as she propped him up.

"It's just a scratch," Hank said, though Hope could see the wound was deep.

"Alright, Hank, a scratch," Hope tried to joke as she pulled off her jacket, "You've been shot clean through the shoulder, just press this as hard as you can against the wound and I'll find you a band-aid." Her hands were warm with blood as she pressed the jacket against the wound; she could feel it on her face and fought back the sense of panic that was flowing through her. Years of medical training had her focusing on the wound and looking around for other victims.

"Hope," Hank said, reaching for her, "Don't go."

"I have to go see if Charles and Ororo are alright, Hank," She held his hand tightly in hers, "I'll be back, I promise." Hope finished on a gasp as she was lifted up off the ground by her hair. Hank started to get up, but a man dressed in black and wearing a ski mask pressed a gun against the side of his head.

"You do anything but cooperate, and your friend gets another hole in him," the man said, even as Hank growled a warning.

"Don't," Hope said quickly, "I'll cooperate." Bull shit, she thought and swung her hand back. She connected with skin and blasted the man holding her up. Her hair stood on end, her skin crackled and the man behind her crumpled. She lunged forward, already throwing bolts out towards the man with the gun. By luck or fate she jerked his wrist up just as he fired a shot. The man collapsed, and the gun was in Hope's hands. She hated guns, was deathly afraid of them, and instead of holding onto it, tossed it away from her as far as she could. By now she was able to get a look around the scene, smoke was slowly filling the room, billowing through the vents and the door, men in black and ski masks were by the doors, and most of the security guards were on the floor, bleeding. She could see Ororo on the ground, clutching her side, Charles lay before her, but Hope couldn't see any wound on him.

"Don't move!" Another man in a ski mask ordered, leveling what looked like a sub machine gun at Hope.

"I'm sick of people telling me to stay put!" Hope yelled and threw her hands forward. A cascade of white blots raced towards the man, before he even had a chance to touch the trigger they were on him and he was down. She flung her hands towards one end of the room, trying for the two guards that blocked the emergency exit and then staggered under a blow to her head. She went down on her knees as another blow came across her temple and then she fell forward, dazed. She managed to roll on to her back and looked up; Wilson Trask was standing over her, a gun held in his hand.

"You had to make it difficult, didn't you?" He said, pointing the barrel of the gun at her.

"You…bastard," Hope managed trying to lash out with her power. All she managed were a few small bolts that didn't even go a few inches away from her.

"Now, that's not nice language Doctor, what kind of example are you setting?" Hope watched his image and the image of the gun swim before her, slowly blending into one terrible image as she passed out.

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Logan acted quickly when Fury answered and told him there had been an attack at Capitol Hill and that the X-men were needed. He ran from the control room, grabbed his uniform off a hook and raced for the X-jet. He'd stop off at the school, grab the kids and go. He leapt over the stair railing down into the second level walkway of the hanger, then vaulted over that railing to land on the floor of the hanger. He hit the button to open the hanger doors on his way to the jet, clicked the remote button to open the stairs and dove up them two at a time. Once inside he punched in the code for take off while stripping of his shirt. He dialed Scott while the jet taxied down the runway, and when the kid answered, he was quick and to the point.

"Attack in Washington, get everyone ready, I'll be there in five." And then he closed the line. Scott wouldn't question if he knew what was good for him, Logan thought, tossing away his jeans. There was no time to hesitate; the adrenaline was pumping through him and for all his training he was thinking a little franticly. Charles, The Doc, Ororo and Hank, all of them were in the Capitol building, and he was back in Bayville. He took over piloting the jet when it cleared the hanger, banking into a turn towards the high school, thinking the football field should be large enough to land on. It was a tense flight to the school; hundreds of possibilities flying through Logan's head as he carefully set the jet down. Waiting on the field was Scott and the other X-men, their faces grim or astonished. He lowered the stairs and the filed in, Scott instantly taking the seat next to Logan.

"What's happened?" He asked while Logan piloted another take off.

"I was watching the proceedings in Washington when the cameras went dead," Logan explained, pushing the jet to its limit, "Called Fury to find out what was going on. He said the building had been attacked and that we were needed."

"What about the Professor?" Jean asked from behind him.

"Nothing, no mention of anyone," He growled and everyone went silent. The air was tense, palatable as they waited. Everyone had their ears tuned towards the communications panel, waiting for the beep of an incoming call. Everyone was praying that in another second the Professor's face would fill the screen, or Hank or Ororo, one of them would call and tell them it was all right. They'd say everything was under control that they would only be needed for clean up and transport. But Logan was a realist, it took a well-organized, steady thinking and well planned attack to even think about attempting an attack on the Capitol building and the execute the attack and succeed. S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles surrounded the Capitol building, but a space was cleared for the jet instantly, and Fury was waiting outside when Logan came down the steps.

"What's happened?" He asked Fury without preamble, the students fanning out behind him.

"Not sure yet, we just closed down the scene," Fury said, leading the group towards the door, "The witnesses are being treated for shock at the hospital, can't talk to them until the doctor's have finished."

"How about our doctor?" Logan asked as Fury held the door open for him and the students to pass through.

"Haven't found her," Fury held up his hand, "But we just got most of the senator's cleared out, there's still people in there."

"And the professor?" Scott asked, fixing on his visor.

"Haven't found anyone of the Institute yet." Fury lead them down another hall way, "This way and don't touch anything." Logan could smell the smoke, the rustic lingering scent of fire and the metallic tang of blood. He could smell the gun powered smoke, shots had been fired, and then he saw the door. It had been blown of its hinges by what looked like well placed charges, and the doors were suppose to be bomb proof.

"What happened to the doors?" Logan challenged, stepping in front of Fury.

"Look, I brought you here to see if there was something you could get from the scene, for now Logan, shut up." Fury grabbed his shoulder and pushed Logan through the door. Everything was in chaos, benches and seats had been turned over along with tables. Papers were scattered everywhere, and blood was thick in the air. Logan scanned the scene and took off running for Hank when he saw Hank on a gurney surrounded by EMTs and S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

"McCoy," Logan said, pushing aside the EMTs, "Where's Charles?"

"Took him already," Hank mumbled, Logan could see they'd given him something for the pain, "Hospital."

"Alright, and Ororo? Where's the Doc? Where's Hope?" Logan shrugged off the agents trying to pull him back and away.

"Trask…took…had a gun…" Hank grabbed his arm, "She dead?" and he was gone, passed out. He let the agents pull him away and the EMTs rushed Hank out.

"The Professor's at the hospital," Logan said when Scott came forward, "So is Storm and McCoy's on his way there." Logan took a deep breath, "Fan out, look for any signs of Dr. Chandler. If anyone is conscious, ask them about her and what happened," Logan ordered, "Teams of two." He turned to Fury, "Where are the FBI agents? Weren't they supposed to be watching out for everyone?"

"We haven't found either of them," Fury ran a hand through his hair, "Agent Akelm was outside by the doors, his body hasn't been recovered. Agent Wayne was found in her apartment this morning, bound and gagged. We have Mystique locked up in an air ship."

"I want to talk to her," Logan growled.

"You will, later," Fury said, "Look, we need to talk."

"About?" Fury placed his hand on Logan's back and steered him to a corner of the room, as secluded as it was going to get with hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D agents sifting through the rubble. Fury turned Logan's shoulders and made him look at him; "We need you on this."

"You have me and the X-men," Logan said, watching the students out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't mean you and the X-men."

Now Fury had Logan's attention, "What?"

"I need you, not as Wolverine, but was Weapon X. If you just want to be Wolverine, I'm not going to be able to tell you anything. All you're going to get is what's on the news."

"Bull shit," Logan pushed Fury away, "My people, my friends are involved in this, we get news as fast as you and S.H.I.E.L.D."

"No you don't, this is a terrorist attack on home soil, and you know the rules on that. Tight lipped, tons of red tape, unless you're involved. You can know everything that we know as soon as we know it if your involved as Weapon X."

"I don't do that anymore," Logan growled.

"But you can, you see the way these guys work, they're good. You're better, you can track them down, faster than any of the agents we have now," Fury pointed out.

"And I can track them down as Wolverine too, I don't need S.H.I.E.L.D. or you to get information," Logan shot back.

"And that's interfering with a federal case, that's jail time. Look around you Logan, you can get these guys, you want to get these guys. I'm giving you that chance."

Logan ran his hands through his hair. Oh yeah, he wanted these guys, but he had other responsibilities now. Now he couldn't go charging out on his own and leave the kids unattended, Fury had to understand that, "Everyone else is in the hospital, who's going to watch the kids while I'm playing super solider?"

"Your kids can lead themselves, you've seen their perfectly capable of that," Fury gripped Logan's arm tight, "We've been over this place looking for bodies, we haven't found Dr. Chandler. We checked the hotel, not there either, she's gone Logan. Whoever did this took her, tried to kill your friends, and killed some good men. We need someone like you on this, she needs you on this."

"Damn it, Fury, damn you," Logan looked around the room; saw the kids competently moving through the debris, picking out clues. "Alright, but I work alone. I'll report what I find to you, only you, and you give me everything, free reign to handle this the way I want to handle it, or else I'm gone."

"If you find them you call us first, don't move in on your own, if you do that, I'll let you do what you think is best," Fury agreed. Logan nodded stiffly, "When you're done here, we'll take you and the kids to the hospital." Fury stepped back, and Logan turned towards the nearest object, the main podium where the chairperson had sat only hours before and punched his fist clean through it.

------

Author's Note: Look, interesting stuff! I picked up the plot and it's just going to keep getting more interesting as the story goes on. Sorry to leave you hanging about what happened to Hope, and with the cliff hanger-ish ending. I'm sorry if I messed up Logan in parts, I think I lost his character after writing so much of him, please don't kill me. Please read and review.

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	7. Chapter Seven

Hope Returns

Chapter Seven

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: Did I leave you hanging long enough? I hope I did, because I want you biting you nails for this one. This chapter is completely told from Logan's point of view, if I deviate from his personality, please don't kill me. I tried my best to keep him in character. Thanks for you reviews, and for your loyalty. Please, read and review.

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Logan leaned back in his chair, rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, "That's the fifth tape, same as all the others."

"Whoever did this was smart," Fury said from beside him where he sat in another chair, "They take out the news vans first, then get inside somehow with all those damn guns and explosives, blow the doors and take out the news cameras. We get right up to the door blow on every camera, then shots are fired and they go down. Who the hell are these people?"

"Someone very organized, none of the anti-mutant groups we've talked with have even come close to this level of organization," Logan muttered, "How many of these things do we have left?"

"Two." Fury ejected the tape and popped in another one. Logan leaned forward to watch the play back on a little television screen. Fury went through the opening, a little bit with a reporter on the outside, then some pompous opening then to when the Doc started to speak. Once there he let it play. Though the tape quality was good, the television only played in black and white and was a little on the grainy side. Making out faces took a good eye, but Logan easily recognized everyone after watching tape after tape. Logan watched this tape intently, just like all the others, his eyes picking up everything that he could, in the hopes he'd find something new on this tape. One more clue to what happened and who did it might be on this tape that wasn't on the others.

"Look," Logan pointed to the screen, "You can see the attack start, two masked men are replacing the suits at every exit."

"This is a different angle from all the others, where was this camera?" Fury asked himself, picking up the box the tape was in. "Above, shot from the original gallery seats. Witnesses say the attackers didn't get up there until the lower level was secure."

"Right," Logan frowned as the shot jiggled, "That's the door blowing. Jesus, how'd she get up from that?" Logan asked when he saw the Doc pitch forward over the podium and land hard on her side.

"She's pretty stoic, look at her holding her side, you think she might have broken some ribs?" Fury asked, pointing at the screen and the Doc as she struggled to get up, her hand pressed to her side.

"There's Charles getting hit," Logan muttered, watching a part of the metal frame work of the door hit the back of Charles's wheel chair and send him sprawling to the floor. Seconds later Ororo clutched her side, and went down. The camera went back to where Hope was being held by her hair, another man had a gun to the side of Hank's head, "Rewind, did it show Hank getting shot?" Fury rewound the tape, and this time Logan focused on Hank.

"Yeah, look," Fury paused the screen midway through Hank being shot, "Bullet came from this guy, the same one who later walked up and pressed the gun to his head."

"He's in custody, correct?"

"Locked up with his bubby, the one that's got Dr. Chandler."

"Alright, start it." Logan watched as the Doc swung her hand over her shoulder and wrapped it around the man who was holding hers cheek, "Nice shot, Doc." He smiled when he saw the bolts dance between her hand and the man's cheek.

"She fought back," Fury murmured, "And look, she took out the one with the gun to your friend, uh, McCoy's head. What is she doing to them?" Fury asked, looking away from the screen and to Logan's profile.

"We're not sure what the Doc's powers do," He said, shrugging his shoulders, "Wonder what she's saying?" He could see the Doc exchanged some words with another one of the masked men they had in custody, and then blast him. "She tried to take out the guards, there, pause it!" Logan pointed to the screen, "Trask, through the door used by the senators, someone's working with him."

"Are you thinking a United State's senator let a group of terrorist into the Capitol building?"

"Maybe," Logan shrugged, this was one suspicion he was keeping to himself, and "Maybe it was a guard."

"We'll look into the surviving guards," Fury said, "Play it?" Logan nodded and the tape started again. Logan kept his anger in check as he watched Trask pistol-whip the Doc, sending her sprawling to the floor and then point the gun at her.

"He didn't shoot her," Fury sighed, "It looks like he's motioning to someone off camera, just a few more minutes and we'll see who takes her….shit." The tape cut out, static ruled the screen and Logan growled. "Alright, so you were right, Trask is involved."

"How much digging did you get done?"

"Not much, we figured out the social security number didn't exist before Trask got it right before going to business school, his wife is legit though, and we still haven't located her or the son."

"Family must have gone with him, where ever he went with the Doc," Logan rubbed his chin in his hands, "Did you look…" Logan trailed off, if S.H.I.E.L.D had been digging, they'd ignored the surface of Wilson Trask, assuming it was all faked. Well, while they dug into that, he'd study the outer shell look for something there. He wouldn't tell Fury just yet though, some hunches were better left unspoken, "Nothing, of course you did."

"You got something on your mind, Logan?"

"You'll check the hospitals for a woman matching the Doc's description with injuries like the one she might have received here, right?"

"First thing," Fury frowned at Logan, "You losing your edge in your old age?"

Logan snorted, pushed away from the table and stood up, "Play that last tape, we'll see if this camera man got anything new." Logan paced behind Fury, watching the tape. It was like the others, swung towards the door when it blew open, then dropped when the cameraman was shot. "Great, just like all the others. Now that you see Trask is involved, when are we going to move in on his house?"

"I'll get a team together and get the locals to do surveillance. You want to choose the team with me?"

"Been out of S.H.I.E.L.D too long to know who's good," Logan muttered, "You choose, I'll get some body armor."

"You think you'll need it?" Fury asked, "You're a fast healer."

"I'm trying to fit in, Patch."

------

"We'll go in quickly, Agent Logan will be at the lead for Team Alpha, I'll be leading Team Beta," Fury said, standing at the head of a meeting room in S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarters. "As far as we know from surveillance, Wilson Trask has not been home and the house is empty. That doesn't mean you're not on high alert, these guys have some serious firepower, they may even have armor piercing rounds. Team Alpha will go in the back door, after a helicopter drop in the backyard. Team Beta, you'll be transported in an armor van to the front door, then go to the upstairs while Team Alpha secures the lower level. If you can help it, don't shoot anyone. We want everything we can from these guys, we've got a missing person, remember that. All right, let's go." Logan noticed the odd looks the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were shooting him but ignored them; he had to focus on the entry. The lay out of the Trask house was simple, immediately through the back door was the kitchen, about a yard in and to the left was a door to the dinning room. If you went straight through the kitchen you came to a hallway, a few feet down that was a living room to the right and a family room to the left. The family room and dinning room connected in a set of double French doors. There was no connection between the family room and kitchen. Logan would go straight when he came in, the agent behind him would break right into the living room, while he went left, meeting up with the agents who went through the dinning room. Logan waited while his team filed past him into the helicopter. From the short files he'd gotten from Fury every member of Team Alpha was made up of top-notch agents who didn't have a single blemish on their records. Everyone knew the plan, every agents was now running it through their head, trying to make sure they didn't mess up or miss anything. Logan was doing the same thing, the same serious and grim look was on his face, and the same thoughts were running through his head. Only he didn't think Trask would be home, only an idiot would still be home after attacking the Capitol. A clue would be nice though, one little hint to keep him on the right track to the Doc. It was a simple plan, Logan thought as the helicopter hovered over the back yard of the Trask House. It was always the simple plans that go wrong, fast.

"Let's go!" He yelled, hooking himself to the drop line then falling backwards out of the open side door of the helicopter. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he unhooked and brought the AK-47 that was standard issue for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents forward and moved off at a rapid walk to the back door.

"Government agents!" He yelled, then kicked the back door open, and scanned the kitchen. The first thing he saw was the pale white face of Franklin Trask, Wilson's son, lying on the kitchen floor, a puddle of blood underneath his head. He heard Team Beta crash through the front door and shook of the moment of stunned anger to do his job. As he passed the living room he saw Cristina Trask, dead, out of the corner of his eye. He stepped into the family room, no body of Wilson Trask like he'd been hoping, but there was a video playing. Wilson Trask took up the large screen television, sitting comfortably in what looked like an office.

"If this video has gone off, then you've broken into my home," Trask was saying, smiling politely, "First I'd like to congratulate S.H.I.E.L.D. on moving so quickly, kudos for you, but you didn't move fast enough. I have your Dr. Chandler, if you're wondering, which of course you are, but you won't see her again." The camera angel changed and swung to the right. Propped up in a chair sat what looked to be a drugged out Hope, bound and gagged. The camera focused on her for a second, and Logan felt something in him twist when he could clearly see the plea for help in her eyes.

The camera then moved back to Trask, "I'm sending a message, S.H.I.E.L.D., a message my father believed in and taught me to believe in. Mutants are a scourge about this earth, a pox on the human population. The government is going to protect them; going to look out for them and the public, the public likes them. Mutants aren't heroes, they aren't revolutionary thinkers like the doctor there, they're monsters. Like my father I intend to protect the human race from them. Dr. Chandler will be used to send a message to every mutant out there, if you, S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Nick Fury, don't find her within the week, that message will be loud and clear. Good luck." The video stopped, then the whine of a VCR started, a few minutes later the tape started again.

"Shut it off," Logan ordered to the other stunned agents, "I said, shut it off!"

------

Logan sat in the same meeting room, only this time he was alone with Fury. So far they'd been in here fifteen minutes without saying one word. There wasn't much to say, when Logan thought about it. A beautiful woman and an innocent child had been killed for some political statement. Another beautiful woman was going to be killed within a week if S.H.I.E.L.D didn't find her. The doctor was somewhere, in the hands of a mad man, and Logan didn't like that at all. That loss, if he screwed up and they ran out of time, Logan would feel a little more personally than all the others.

"We found the gun," Fury said suddenly, breaking the silence, "The gun used on the son and wife. Trask's prints aren't on it."

"Whose prints are?" Logan asked, half-heartedly focused on what Fury was saying.

"A security guard who worked at the Capitol building, found his prints in the Defense system, when he applied for the job."

"Is he in custody?"

"No, got away."

"How about the tape? Your experts get anything from it?"

"So far, no, not a single clue from it."

"And the technicians, anything in the house worth our time?" Fury just shook his head, and Logan's frown deepened. "We've still got the men in custody, and Mystique."

"Only they're not talking."

"They haven't asked for a lawyer yet, we've still got a chance to get them to talk."

Logan sighed and got to his feet, "I'm going to see Charles, then I'm off the clock."

"And if I need you?" Fury asked, looking up at him.

"Not tonight, Patch, I'm done for today." Fury watched Logan leave, he wanted to call him back, but he wasn't suppose to be his friend, at least not this time. He needed Logan alert, on edge, not looking for a shoulder to lean on for a bit. Fury sighed, he hated this case already, and he hadn't even talked with the men they had in custody yet but he could tell this was going to drag on. Fury rose from the table, he'd do that now, get to them before Logan did and maybe save them a few bruises and broken bones.

------

Logan stood in the doorway to Charles's hospital room. Already inside Ororo and Hank sat by Charles's bed, like two sentinels watching over. Charles lay there, pale and little gaunt looking but he was breathing on his own and steadily. It had been a grim scene when the students, every one of them silent, had filed into the room where Charles and Ororo were recovering. Ororo recovered quickly; she could manage to get herself into a wheel chair, where she now sat next to Charles's bed. Hank had also healed quickly, and could already move around. The students were packed away in a hotel, with around the clock S.H.I.E.L.D. agents watching over them. There were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents around the doors of the hospital and at the entrance to Charles's room also. They were as safe as they would ever be, until the men who did this were caught. The Institute was in lock down, the younger students locked inside safe from attack. Logan or Scott called every morning and every night to check on them, just to make sure. He wanted to send Scott and the other students back, but they insisted they stay with Charles and close to the investigation. Logan couldn't send them away, so he used them instead to listen in on the gossip flowing between the agents. The gossip was almost as helpful as the information he got from Fury as Weapon X.

"Hasn't woken up yet?" Logan asked when he took a step inside.

"No," Ororo said, looking up, "Apparently a large piece of the door splintered inward and hit him. The doctors are unsure of how long it will take him to wake up." The scene from the tape flashed in Logan's mind, but he pushed it away, he'd seen that tape enough and didn't want it playing in his head.

"Any news?" Hank asked. His right arm was supported in a sling; Logan knew he was taking powerful painkillers every morning and that the doctors would be surprised if he ever regained full movement of the shoulder. S.H.I.E.L.D. had all the medical reports from all the doctors on all the victims of the attack. Logan himself had read all of them last night, looking to see if there had been any one target, but to him it didn't seem like they were after anyone in particular. Hank didn't leave Charles's bedside until the nurses kicked him out, so said the agents, and then waited by the phone to hear from Logan. He didn't like the idea of people waiting to hear from him, he wanted to keep all of his thoughts to himself, but he had duty to answer to, once again.

"Nothing. I'm going to a meeting with Fury after I'm done here," Logan lied, he hadn't decided where he'd go after this, "They've finished clearing the scene and are shifting through the bullets and anything else they believe could be evidence."

"Any ransom notes, calls?" Ororo asked.

"Nothing, but this isn't about ransom," Logan said, "There was a tape, this is part of some terrorist ring, they were trying to kill as many of the people inside the building as possible. They're making a statement."

"Then why take Hope?" Hank asked angrily, glaring hard at Logan.

Logan thought of the video and Trask so calm and cool as he delivered the time limit, "An important public figure on mutants? They might use her for a ransom, or an exchange. They give us the Doc if we give them Jason Trask. But they'll most likely... kill her." The idea ripped at Logan, but he had to face the reality of the situation.

"It was Trask!" Hank yelled, getting to his feet, "I saw him, he took her!"

"Yeah, but we can't find him. We're looking though," Logan felt for Hank, everything in him was telling him that Trask had the Doc some where, maybe even close by, but Fury was keeping a tight leash on him until they had evidence of that he wasn't going anywhere. As soon as there was proof, Logan would be gone on his own, tracking Trask.

"Can't you don something! Damn it Logan you're suppose to help find her!" Hank slammed his fist against Charles's bed, "I saw Trask holding a gun on Hope, she's in danger, do something."

Logan growled right back, "Shut up and listen. S.H.I.E.L.D. won't let me do anything, anything until they think they know more than I do. Then they're going to let me go, and think they can find her before me."

"With every second you wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. Trask is getting farther away," Hank hissed, "Do something."

"Hank," Ororo reached out a hand and laid it on Hank's arm, "Logan's doing everything he can."

"It's not enough." Logan kept silent at the accusation in Hank's eyes. He felt like it wasn't enough, he knew Trask was slipping through his fingers, but he couldn't do anything until S.H.I.E.L.D. was done with the tapes, the house and the debris. Instead of explaining anything he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, nothing was going to get through to Hank by the look of things anyway.

"Taking out your guilt on him isn't the answer, Hank," Ororo said softly, "He wants Hope back as much as you do."

"He doesn't," Hank snapped, "He can't possibly want her back as much as I do." Ororo's eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open, she couldn't believe it.

"Hank, you're in love with her?" Ororo asked carefully, watching Hank's face intently. Hank looked away, unsure or unable to answer, "How long?"

"Seems like forever," He finally answered, eyes closed and head falling back, "She's missing and there's nothing I can do. Even if I rushed in and played the hero she still wouldn't return my feelings. I'm her brother as much as Michael is."

"Michael is her real brother?" Hank nodded, "She can't be totally unaware of your feelings, can she?"

"Ororo, it's nothing for you to worry about," Hank covered her hand with his, "I've dealt with this by myself for a while."

"You shouldn't have to," Ororo said, linking her fingers with his.

"Thank you."

------

Logan decided to play pool. It felt like the only thing he could do right at this point. The Doc, he couldn't seem to get her off his mind. If he screwed up and time ran out, what would he lose if he lost her? Her laugh, he decided as he took aim on another shot, that bright, brilliant sound. Or maybe he'd miss her smile the most, it was so easily given to the students and anyone who did make her angry, like he did. Logan took the shot and watched the ball roll right into the pocket. He didn't try to make her angry though, it just seemed to happen. He was trying to watch out for her, protect her, and all he ended up doing was ticking her off. And losing her, he thought, watching as he missed his shot. Shake it off, he ordered himself suddenly, moping around wouldn't do the Doc any good. But he wanted a moment, just a moment to miss her, just a moment. Tonight though, it seemed like he wouldn't get that chance. He phone was going off in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the number.

"What?" He growled, it was one of the kids calling him.

"I heard her," Jean said, "Dr. Chandler, she was calling to me."

"You heard her? Telepathically?" Logan asked, tucking his phone against his shoulder so he could pick up the helmet for the bike he'd been lent.

"Yes, yes, but she's not talking anymore, she's not answering when I call her."

"All right, Jean, I'll be there in a minute, just hang on." He quickly hung up, and went racing for the door of the pool hall. Hang on, he thought again, hang on Doc.

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Author's Note: No Hope at all in the chapter. Isn't it driving you mad that you don't know what's happened to her? Well, in the next chapter I won't tell you if you'll find out about Hope, but I will tell you that you'll hear from Mystique, more from Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D and we'll see how everyone is do, emotionally. Please read and review.

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	8. Chapter Eight

Hope Returns

Chapter Eight

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: I'm trying to decide if my broken ankle is a hindrance or a help. I really want to get out more, but shuffling around on crutches is annoying in the summer. Too much heat and too much humidity. But because I won't go out I get more time to write. There's the ever present fear of writer's block though, which I feel is constantly hovering around my shoulder. Anyway, please read and review.

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Jean Gray was patient, and dedicated. When she was given a task, she'd do it to the best of her ability no matter how long it might take. Self imposed task took on extra importance, she disliked failing others, but hated failing herself. She wouldn't fail in this task though, it wasn't just herself she'd be letting down, it was the whole Institute. She was trying to find Dr. Chandler. She kept pushing her thoughts farther and father away from the hotel in the middle of downtown Washington, trying to touch on Dr. Chandler's thoughts. It was giving her a headache, shifting through all the thoughts she came across, but she kept pushing. With Cerebro she could easily find the doctor's thought patterns, but she couldn't get to Cerebro while still in Washington waiting to hear about the investigation. Jean didn't know how far she was reaching, but she felt something familiar in the mass of thoughts. Carefully she untangled them, until she had a hold of the seemingly familiar thought.

"_Charles,"_ The thought flowed through Jean's head, and she wrapped her mind around it, _"Come on… Charles, you have to…hear me."_

"_Dr. Chandler?"_ Jean asked tentatively, slipping into the thought.

"_Jean?"_ There was a long pause and Jean thought maybe she'd lost the thought, _"Oh thank god,"_ It was Dr. Chandler, but her thoughts were slurred and slow. Jean tried to help her focus, but she felt something was clouding the doctor's mind, making shifting through her thoughts like swimming against a strong current.

"_Where are you, Dr. Chandler?"_

"_I don't know…dark…cold…really cold…Trask…"_ Dr. Chandler tried, but Jean knew her telepathic capabilities were weak at best, with whatever was clouding her mind she could barely project her thoughts. Jean frantically tried to keep the connection strong, but it kept fading in and out like a radio that needed tuning.

"_Come on, Dr. Chandler, hold on, you've go to stay awake!"_ Jean yelled to her, trying to keep the signal between them strong.

"_Trask…took me…north, I think…"_ And it was gone. Jean tried to reconnect, but there was nothing, Dr. Chandler was too far, or maybe someone was blocking her, but she was alive. Jean scrambled up from the bed where she sat and ran for the little sitting room where everyone was waiting around.

"I heard her!" She yelled as she burst into the room, "I heard Dr. Chandler."

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Jean repeated her story for Fury, a man who was almost as intimidating as Logan. She had to tell her story twice more, once for a digital recorder, and once more for a video camera. S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarter's was an intimidating place, it was almost completely done in concrete bricks painted a depressing gray, and a rusted metal was chosen as an accent color. It didn't look like a place where a high security, highly skilled government agency would be, but Jean guess that was the point.

"So, this Cerebro could find Dr. Chandler?" Fury asked her, after she'd finished with the video recording.

"It could," Jean said tentatively, looking towards Logan to see what was okay to say, and how much.

"Cerebro can pick out the Doc's thought patterns, or mutation," Logan explained, "Unfortunately, Charles changed the pass code for it, and only he knows it. After Mystique was able to break in to the Institute, he beefed up the security."

"And with him still unconscious there's no way to get the code," Fury finished.

"That's not exactly true," Logan looked towards Jean, "You think you could find it?"

"I could try, it might be pretty easy since the Professor's unconscious," Jean said, hopeful.

"Wait, Logan, what are you planning?" Fury asked, eyes darting between Jean and Logan.

"Jean can get the pass code to Cerebro from Charles, we send her and the other X-men back to the Institute. If Jean finds the Doc, they can go get her."

"They're not part of this investigation," Fury frowned.

"Yeah, now they are. Come on Jean, let's go see the Professor." Logan looked down at Jean. She rose from the seat, watching Fury carefully. She didn't have to be a psychic to see he was angry with Logan. Frustration and angry rolled of him in visible waves. Jean followed Logan closely as they left the room, and through the hallways that seemed to go on forever. It's laid out like a maze, Jean thought, when one hallway ended in three other ones. She didn't know how Logan knew how to get out, but he opened a steel door into the bright sunlight. Outside the door a black non-descript car was waiting, two agents standing by the passenger side door.

"Colonel Fury sent a car for you, sir," One of the agents said, opening the door. Jean heard Logan humph, but he got into the car anyway and Jean followed. One of the agents got into the front seat, and the other got into the driver's side and they were off. Jean was worried a bit about Logan's plan, she didn't think the Professor would like her poking around in his mind. She did want to help Dr. Chandler though, she guessed there wasn't much of a choice. The Professor would understand, she thought, and afterwards he could change the code again. Satisfied with her logic, Jean sat in silence while they were driven to the hospital's back entrance. With the S.H.I.E.L.D agents flanking them, Jean and Logan climbed the five flights of stairs to the hallway where Professor's room was. Hank was there, as well as Ororo, both still sitting silently by his bedside.

"What brings you here, Jean?" Ororo asked,

"I'd like to talk with you, outside," Hank said stiffly to Logan, who nodded. They walked out, shoulders straight as their backs. Ororo frowned at them, Jean speculated after them, but neither said anything about it.

"I need to get the code for Cerebro," Jean explained, "I heard Dr. Chandler calling for help, I need to use Cerebro to see if I can find her again."

"Is she alright?" Ororo asked, gesturing to the chair Hank had left open.

"She sounded kind of slow, and her thoughts were really muddled, I guess," Jean frown and laid her hand on the Professor's forehead. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Professor," Jean said softly, then pushed herself into his mind.

------

This was possibly the most embarrassing thing Hank had ever had to do, and the most embarrassing thing Logan had ever had to suffer through. They were men, they didn't like to show emotions or apologize, so there was five minutes of terse silence before Hank was able to say something.

"Sorry," Hank muttered, "I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you."

"It's nothing," Logan shrugged, "Everyone's a little on edge."

Hank ran a hand over his head, "Yes, I should thank you Logan." They were good friends, Hank remembered, he shouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of that. "I know you don't like working with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"It's nothing," Logan said again, trying to ignore the tension gathering at the back of his neck, "I've got some good news, at least."

"Really?"

"Jean got a message, telepathically from the Doc. She didn't get much of a message, the Doc's been drugged, so she can't tell us much."

"But she's alive," Hank's number one fear, disappeared, releasing an enormous weight from his shoulder. Logan too felt that tight knot in his stomach lessen, but not vanish. He knew that the gauntlet had been thrown, one week or the Doc wouldn't come back.

"Yeah," Logan reassured, "If Jean's able to get the code, she'll have a better chance."

"You know Charles better than the rest of us," Hank said, turning towards the door, "Do you think she can get it from him?"

"If she's stubborn enough to get it, she will." Logan said, "We'll wait out here. Give her some space."

"Right." They waited a full thirty minutes before Jean stumbled out of the room, one hand pressed to her head.

Logan stepped forward and caught Jean as she stumbled. "What happened?"

"I got the code," Jean mumbled, "I can get in."

"You'll take a break first," Logan growled, "You need some rest before you start pushing yourself again with Cerebro."

Jean shook her head, "I should get to the Institute, I should start looking for Dr. Chandler."

"I agree with Logan, Jean," Hank said gently, "You can rest in Ororo's bed, then go."

"Really, I don't need," Jean started, but Hank put a hand on her shoulder and steered her back into the room.

"If you work yourself into exhaustion and make yourself sick you won't be helping Hope. Just a few minutes of rest won't hurt."

"Okay," Jean mumbled, and Hank carefully helped her into the bed, "Just a few minutes." Jean closed her eyes and almost instantly fell asleep.

"What happened?" Logan asked Ororo without preamble.

"She looked fine walking out of here, I think Charles's mind may have accidentally over powered hers," She said, frowning down at Charles before looking up at him, "She should wake up pretty quickly once she gets some rest."

"I should get back to S.H.I.E.L.D.," Logan sighed, "I should have let her rest before bringing her here."

"That wouldn't have stopped her, she's determined. Hank or I will call you when she wakes up if you want," She said. Logan nodded, looked down at Charles and walked out.

Hank looked after Logan after he had walked out, "I should tell the others," he said, looking back at Ororo.

"I'll keep an eye on them," Ororo smiled, "They'll be fine, if there's any trouble there are doctors everywhere."

"You'll be alright for a while on your own?" Hank asked, concern written across his face.

"If I need anything I'll call a doctor." Hank nodded and then left. He should be getting more rest, Ororo thought, taking Charles's hand in hers. He's worried about Hope, worried about Logan, and worried about everyone else, he needed a break from that worry. Ororo sighed; Logan was also worrying too much. He was also working too hard; she could see it around his eyes. But there was something else too, Ororo thought, there was something more personal in his eyes. In fact, if she thought about it Hank and Logan had very similar looks in their eyes.

Ororo sighed as she smoothed her hand over Charles's brow, "Surprising how we fall apart without you isn't it? We're all pulling, but no one is pulling the same way. Once Hank stops hovering, we'll do better. We'll do fine, once we're all settled again. You just get some rest, Charles. We'll do fine."

------

Hope was getting stronger, every time they injected her with what she believed was a powerful painkiller her body built up a resistance. She still couldn't see straight, everything was dark when she opened her eyes, but there was no cloth over her eyes or any type of blindfold. She was so cold too, curled into some sort of box with no heat, no blanket, just the clothes she wore when she was taken. Her knees were up against her chest, her head tucked almost touching her knees and her hands were behind her back. They had handcuffed her wrist and ankles, mostly left her alone in the box, as she had come to call it and only opened the lid to inject her. She understood they were starving her for a reason, to make her so weak she couldn't flight back, but it was water Hope wanted. She knew she could survive a very long time without food, the time limit was around a few weeks, but without water she'd only have a few days. She was waiting this time, straining her ears for any sound. This time when the lid was lifted she'd lash out with everything she had. Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic, Hope thought, or maybe before she wasn't. Now though, she didn't think she'd be able to stand dark, closed in spaces. The fear was always there, fear of everything from suffocating, or dehydration, but there was also fear of being shot. Hope would close her eyes and see the image of Wilson Trask holding the gun on her. Her worst fear was he'd come back and shoot her, for no reason. There was probably reason, Hope thought; she just didn't know what it was. She wished violently to have Jean talking to her again, but she couldn't get a hold of her. Or Charles, no one could hear her calling out for help. When Jean was talking to her, Hope felt some sense of knowing where she was. The blank blackness was disorienting, Hope couldn't tell which way was up or down some times. She didn't know if it was day or night. How long had she been kept in the box? She didn't know, it felt like forever. She also wished for Logan, his strength and competence, then she'd have some other idea of what to do. Hope stiffened in the box when she heard a noise, the lock on the outside of the box was being moved around. Opened, Hope wondered as she relaxed and pretended to be pass out. She heard the creak of the hinges on the boxes, felt the inwards sweep of warmer air and let everything fly. Her skin burned as she pushed her power out of the box towards whoever had opened it and didn't stop until she heard the top of the box slam closed. Ignoring the protest of her cramped muscles she pushed the top open and started to climb out. With her ankles chained even bringing her feet around was hard, but soon she was sitting up, her back pressed against the top of the box, and lying at her feet was a Canadian police officer. Hope was in the back of a van, the box was recessed into the floor and there were thick rolls of carpet pushed around. Hope stared at the officer, she'd just attacked someone trying to save her, but where were her kidnappers. Suddenly afraid she glanced around for someone other than the officer, and almost screamed when she saw Wilson Trask standing to the side of the van.

"Well done, Dr. Chandler," He said, stepping around to the back of the van, a gun pointed towards her. "You just saved me a lot of trouble." He turned the gun away from her and shot the officer. Hope jumped with every bang from the barrel and she felt the warmth of tears as she turned her head away. "Get back in," Trask ordered when there was silence again.

"No," Hope whispered past the urge to sob, "No."

"Now, Dr. Chandler, I've been pretty good to you up to now. I think you can get back in the box." Hope swung back to face him, astonished that he'd say such a thing.

"You've done nothing that could be count as good," Hope spat, then saw the officer lying on the ground, he was still breathing. She had to save him, she was a doctor, by Trask wouldn't let her. Hope looked towards him, and the gun turned on her. "If you let me save his life, I'll get back in."

"Why should I let you save him? He'll just lead them straight to us and I don't want that," Trask asked.

"Because I'll stop calling for help," Hope stuck her chin higher, "If you get me back in this box, I'll just go back to calling for help. I've already managed to reach someone, they don't know much now, but I can tell them a lot more."

"He's seen you, the van, and me," Trask shook his head, "He can't talk."

"I'm in Canada," Hope looked past Trask, "Manitoba, says so on the car. I'm in the back of a white carpet van, I'll tell all of that to the person I reached already. There's also a machine used to locate mutants, if I get in contact again, they'll use it and find me in a second. You want more time to get away, change cars and such, you'll have it," Hope toss her head back, "If you let me save his life, I'll keep quiet."

"And what's to keep you from calling for help even if I let you help him?"

"You have my word," Hope said through gritted teeth, "You know I wouldn't break that."

Trask grinned evilly, "Yeah, that's a great thing about you noble types, anything to preserve your honor." Trask jerked his head towards the fallen officer, "Go help him." Carefully, keeping on eye on Trask, Hope climbed out of the van and kneeled next to the officer.

He opened his eyes and looked painfully up at her, "I love your work, Dr. Chandler."

"I'm going to help you, okay?" She whispered, leaning close to him, blocking Trask view of the conversation, "You'll probably be knocked unconscious again, I'm sorry, when you wake up call S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Shield?"

"Yes, or call the FBI, they'll know how to help you."

"Hurry up, Dr. Chandler, we're getting behind schedule," Trask shouted from behind her.

"All right, okay," Hope concentrated on her power, telling it to heal and then gently as she could laid her forehead against the officers.

"What are you doing?" Trask asked gruffly, pulling Hope back by her wrist.

"I have to touch him to heal him," Hope snapped, "Let go." He released her, and Hope touched her forehead back to the officers. "You'll feel better soon, I promise."

The officer tilted his chin up and kissed her softly, "All ready do." And then he went limp underneath Hope. She tried to heal him quickly, she could even feel him slipping away, and mentally begged him to live. You're my only hope, she mentally pleaded with him, you can't die on me, please, you have to help me. When she could feel his heart beating on its own, and the bullet holes had stopped bleeding Hope moved more steadily through healing him. It took up more time, time Hope wanted to waste, but Trask caught on and hauled her away from the officer.

"Time to go, Dr. Chandler."

"You'll have to help me get into the box," Hope said, ignoring the tears she felt rolling back down her cheeks, "Unless you want to waste more time." Trask grabbed her roughly around the middle with one arm, then threw her into the box, the lid slammed closed and Hope heard the lock violently slam. She wanted to scream of Jean, but didn't, just cried for herself.

------

Logan was feeling the strain, a strain he hadn't felt in years, and all of it was in his eyes, neck and shoulders. He was hunched over the television watching the news tapes again, and again, and again. He also watched the tape of Wilson Trask, begging for a clue. He hadn't found anything new yet. There was a cold burger and fires at his elbow, the files on Trask and the men under arrest were under it. When he was convinced he was finished with the tapes, he'd read the files and when he was convinced he was finished with those, he'd go see the men they had under arrest. He'd either talk them into getting to talk or he'd use his fist to get them to talk. He was tried of playing by Fury's rules, annoyed with government policy and politics in general. He wanted out, but he'd stay in, the Doc was at stake here. A knock at the door had Logan growling a fierce, "Go away." But the door at his back opened anyway.

"Logan, we have a lead," Fury said from behind him.

Logan turned around in his chair, "Jean's got something?" The kid had woken up just before Logan had locked himself into this room, and been shipped off with the other students to the Institute to start searching for the Doc.

"No, we have a sighting." Logan was out of his chair in a second, following Fury down the hallway.

"What happened?"

"We don't have the full story yet," Fury said, "A Canadian patrol man pulled over a van for suspicious driving, he felt something was wrong," Fury shook his head, "It's better if you hear it from him, he's in here." Fury opened the door to a meeting room, and stepped aside as Logan walked in. Pacing near the head of the table was a tall wiry man in a Canadian patrol men's uniform. The back of which was stained with blood.

"Mr. Hardy," Fury said, catching the man's attention, "This is Agent Logan, he's in charge of Dr. Chandler's kidnapping."

"I'm Neal Hardy," the man said, stepping towards Logan, holding a hand out, "I don't know where to start."

"Just tell Agent Logan here what happened," Fury said while Logan shook hands with Hardy.

"Right," Hardy stepped back and when to pacing, "I was driving along a back route, checking for speeding drivers and drunks, when I saw this van." Hardy paused, "I didn't like the look of the van, so I pulled it over. The driver, he was nervous and just seemed to be trying to get rid of me."

"What did he look like?" Logan asked, watching Hardy intently.

"I didn't know it then, he was using a fake driver's license, it was Wilson Trask. I saw a picture after coming here to the states," Hardy explained.

"You're sure it was Wilson Trask?" Logan asked quickly.

"Yeah, damn sure," Hardy said, "Anyway, I was talking to the driver, Wilson Trask, when I felt it."

"Felt what?"

"Body heat coming from the back of the van," Hardy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I'm a mutant, I'm hypersensitive to body heat or something like that and in the cold it was pretty easy to tell that someone was back there. I asked the driver if I could take a look in the back, he said sure, so I went to take a look. There were a few rolls of carpet, and when I pushed those aside, there was a simple slide lock on the floor. I was thinking drugs, or illegal weapons so I opened it. Dr. Chandler was inside, but she didn't get a look at me and attacked me."

"Is she why your back's covered in blood?" Logan asked.

"No, I passed out or she knocked me out some how, Wilson Trask shot me. When I woke up Dr. Chandler was leaning over me. She told me to call S.H.I.E.L.D or the FBI and tell them what happened. I was thinking I'm going to die, but she helped me. She healed me, I think, but I passed out again and when I woke up, the van was gone."

"What do you remember about the van?"

"White van, carpet van, Tack and Stack or Tack and Save, something like that. I remember the license plate, though, wrote it down when I pulled him over," Hardy held out a little battered notebook, "There's a camera in the dash of my patrol car."

"Damn good," Fury said, "Damn good work."

------

Author's Note: I couldn't tease you much longer about Hope, which I bet you all are very happy for. I tried not to leave a cliff hanger here, to appease a fan, but don't think I quite managed it. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, please read and review.


	9. Chapter Nine

Hope Returns

Chapter Nine

By: Lily Handle

------

Author's Note: I'd like to thank all my reviewers, since I haven't in a while. This chapter may bother a few of you, I do use some harsh language, so be warned. I'm also running out of things to say here, since my life has become really boring after breaking my ankle. I'd like to do something besides writing once and a while. Now I've cursed myself, I can hear the writer's block coming for me. Please read and review.

------

Logan seemed to be spending a lot of time sitting in offices with Fury, and today was no exception. He had only six days remaining in his search for the Doc, and only one solid lead. The van and the witness, Neal Hardy, with his report and the video from his patrol car S.H.E.I.L.D. agents were combing through Canada for the van. They would find it, but it would be abandoned, Trask wasn't stupid enough to keep using it. The Doc would be tucked away in another box or this time maybe the trunk. She'd have more room if she was in the trunk, Logan thought, clenching his fist to keep from smashing the table in. When he found Trask, he was going to tare him limb from limb for putting Hope through this. He'd seen the tape from the patrol car and gotten his first look at the Doc since when he tried to reach Charles and she had answered. She was too thin, too pale, even with the poor quality of the tape anyone could see there was a blue tint to her lips. "He's not taking very good care of her," Logan said to Fury, who looked up from the files spread out between them.

"Treating her like a prisoner of war," Fury commented, leaning back in his chair, "He's probably starving her, denying her water and keeping her in the small box has her disoriented. If she managed to get away she wouldn't know which way to go and couldn't go very far."

"I know what he's doing," Logan snapped, knowing made it worse. He had to get the Doc to start taking self-defense lessons, something more than her just throwing around those bolts of hers. She claimed she was non-violent, a healer not a fighter, but if she had half the training the kids had she could get away from Trask. "Anything new turn up in your search about Trask?"

"No birth records for him, anywhere," Fury sighed, "We've tried getting information out of Trask Sr. but he's not talking."

"Prisons keep records of who inmates talk to, do the Trasks talk to each other? Or have any mutual friends?"

"Not a single one, Trask Sr. hasn't so much as said a single word to another person since he was convicted. He doesn't talk to his cellmate, or any other inmates either. His lawyer said if they knew anything about the attack, or where Dr. Chandler is, they'd break privilege."

"I want to talk with the men who are in custody," Logan said, anger edging into the statement, "Today."

"They're not talking," Fury said, "Believe me Logan, I tried everything I could think of to get them to talk. Deals got shoved back in my face, threats were either laughed off or ignored, and I'm pretty sure anything short of medieval torture methods would get them to talk. They're damn tight lipped."

"I know how to get people to open up," Logan growled, "I can get them to talk."

"And that's why I don't want to let you near them."

"I just want to talk to them, Patch."

"Your version of talking often involves bruises," Fury explained, "I can't let you talk to them if they're going to end up hurt."

"I won't hurt them, I just want to talk with them. They've got to know something of Trask plan for the Doc, and if I hurt them they'll probably clam up even tighter."

"Logan, if I let you talk to them, you can't lay a finger on them no matter what they say and how angry it makes you."

"Scouts honor."

"Alright, fine then," Fury stood up from the table he was sitting at, "You've read the files we have on the men under arrest. Mystique is a little trickier; she keeps trying to break out by changing form. We've isolated her in room with constant surveillance and the guards are separated from her."

"One of them is a low level criminal, one is a high end lawyer, and the other is the guard. All they've said so far is that they're prisoners of war." Logan said also rising from his seat "They're claiming they're prisoners of war, making noise about being protected under the Geneva Convention."

"They believe we have no right to hold them," Fury rubbed his eyes, "The lawyer just rants about the law, he won't say anything useful, but he won't shut up."

"I thought you said they weren't talking," Logan said, one eyebrow raised.

"Lawyer speak isn't talking. Come on, I'll take you to him."

------

Logan had the file tucked under his arm when he stepped into the interrogation room where Jeremiah Samson was sitting, hand cuffed and shackled at the ankles. The file said just what Fury said told him; Jeremiah wasn't dangerous, non-violent, and silent. Well, Logan thought, he was going to change that. Samson looked up at him when he closed the door, a look of disgust crossed the man's face and then he looked away.

"I don't wanna talk to you," Samson said in a southern drawl. File said he was originally from a place called Blackwood, Mississippi, population only 500. He was a high school dropout, worked a few dead end jobs and then disappeared from the public eye. He was the perfect small-minded lackey for a group like the only who had attacked the Capitol building. Brainless, easy to sway into doing anything the group asked of him.

"Well, bub, that's too bad, because I was looking forward to talking to you," Logan said, sitting in the chair opposite Samson.

"You're one of them," Samson spat and Logan just raised his eyebrows. After a few seconds of silence, Samson elaborated, "A mutant."

"And who told you that?"

"How dumb to you think I am?" Samson sneered, "I don't have to tell you anything."

"True, you don't, but you know, I can make you." Logan slid his claws out and started to carefully clean his nails with one, "Of course that would be against your civil rights."

"That's right, I…I got rights," Samson eyes the claws nervously, shifting in his seat, eyes darting around the room.

"Yeah, of course you've also been involved in a terrorist attack, so that puts you pretty low on the food chain." Logan smiled charmingly, and slid his claws back home to change hands and clean the other set of nails, "You should see what they do to terrorist in prison down in your neck of the woods, because that's where you'd be going. Back home, with the good ole boys of Mississippi." Logan watched Samson's eyes jump, "You've seen what they do to people like you in jail haven't you?"

"Well, I ain't in jail, am I?"

"You will be," Logan smiled, "You had a rough time when you were in jail didn't you? You know this time it'll be worse."

"Yeah? Well, uh…they'll know I stop a bunch of mutant freaks, and they'll, they'll call me a hero I reckon," Samson tried to boast and all Logan did was grin.

"And how are they going to find out? You gonna tell them?" Logan snorted, slid his claws back in and flexed his fingers, "Like they're going to believe an anti-American like you." Logan let the silence ride for a while, and let Samson stew. Logan knew that the prison S.H.I.E.L.D. planned to send Samson too was in upper Maryland, where there was a small population of patriotic prisoners, but down in Mississippi, especially Blackwood Penitentiary, there was a whole prison gang named the Patriots. As a terrorist who attacked the Capitol building, Samson would have a very hard time with them. Logan was keeping his promise to Fury, though he wanted to smash Samson's face in. He could just as easily intimidate the small-minded man with promises of a sentence in Blackwood and mental games instead of violence. If Samson didn't roll, then his buddy, a high-end lawyer named Hollins would. He was already asking for a deal, immunity from prosecution, but Fury wouldn't give it to him. When Logan went to talk with him, he'd offer it only if Hollins knew enough to make it worth his while.

"There's a way out of going, you know," Logan said off handedly.

"I don't need a deal, least all from an unnatural like you."

"Ah, so sorry to hear that. The jury is going to love watching the little video we have of you," Logan chuckled, "You know I'd say the camera isn't very flattering to you."

"There weren't no cameras," Samson boasted, "We took them all out."

"Ah, but you gave one a lot of time to get footage," Logan smiled, "Footage of you shooting guards, camera men, and innocent bystanders. Best evidence there is."

"You can't see my face," Samson sneered again, "You ain't got nothing."

"I've got tons actually. There's hair evidence in the mask we took off of you, tough to beat that pesky DNA, oh then there is the fiber evidence, but there's too much of that to go into." Logan grinned, "There's also powder residue…"

"Alright, alright, I get the point," Samson was sweating hard now, shifting in his seat and looking a little pale.

"Do you, because I don't think you do," Logan leaned over the table, getting in close to Samson, "You are going away for a very long time for this, bub, and I'm going to make sure that the only way your sentence gets shortened is if you leave jail in a casket." Logan growled the statement, eyes going cold and hard, then as he pulled back, indolently leaning back in his seat.

"Alright, alright, fine, fine, I'll tell you what I know, but you gotta make sure I won't go to…to…"

"Yeah, you'll go some place else." Logan slid a digital recorder onto the table, and hit record, "Start talking."

"I was looking for a place to stay, since I was a little down on my luck. So this guy…"

"What did he look like?" Logan asked quickly.

"He was a tall guy, kinda square jaw," Samson sighed, "I'd have to think about it."

"You'll talk with a sketch artist after wards as part of your deal," Logan growled, "Keep going."

"Alright, so this guy says there's a place I can live for free, with food, and all I had to do was one little favor. I'm not big on favors; this guy said it was for a worthy cause and all that. Well I thought he was some sort of bible thumper, you know the type. So I went a long, thinking I'd get a meal, steal the good silver, and split" At this Samson chuckled like it was some good joke, "Anyway, when I get there, I find out they think a lot like I do, you know. Hating mutants, how the government's gonna go easy on them because they're afraid the freaks would revolt or something." Samson sneered at Logan.

"Aren't you a charmer?" Logan muttered quietly.

"So after a while the guy who approached me the first time came to me with the plan. They needed some guys who knew how handle a gun. I said I'd be in, you know, there would be some money waitin' for me on the other end anyway."

Logan slid a picture over to Samson, "Was this guy who approached you?" Samson picked up the picture; frown at it then slid it back to Logan.

"Naw, that's not him." Logan tucked the picture back into the folder; it was a picture of Wilson Trask.

------

The second man Logan talked to was Walter Hollins, a square faced, pudgy lawyer who as soon as Logan stepped into the room started spouting lawyer speech.

"I don't care," Logan yelled, temper snapping before he reined it back in., "Your friend Samson already rolled on you and your guard friend. If you want to go down because of him, keep talking about civil rights and proper representation."

"Samson…he…he rolled?" Hollins looked suspicious, as if he wanted to believe what Logan had said, but didn't know if he could.

"Yeah, he did," Logan watched the man flinch away from him, and rethought about controlling his anger. This man would respond to the anger, anything to keep him from getting hurt. So, Logan thought a little too happily, he'd vent on this guy. With a feral growl, Logan braced his arms on the table top and glared hard, "He said you were the one who planned it all."

"I didn't!"

"Oh yeah?" Logan slammed his fist against the table, "Well, I don't believe you. Never liked lawyers anyway. Where is she!"

"Who…who are you…tal…talking about?"

"WHERE'S HOPE!" Logan tossed the table sideways, sending it crashing into the wall and the lawyer broke down, blubbering like a little kid.

"He said we'd just talk," Hollins wailed, "That we were just going to talk to them."

"Who?" Logan asked, but the man just wailed, "Who damn it?"

"Trask!" Hollins yelled, covering his face with his fat, stubby hands, "He heard about my work on mutant sociology, he said he was planning a march on the Capitol, I should have seen through it, you know. All those thugs," Some how Hollins managed to sound contrite even while sobbing, "But I just wanted a chance to show them, show them all!"

"Yeah, you bastard, you showed them," Logan growled and left, slamming the cell door behind him. Logan needed to hit something, hard and until he managed to break whatever he was hitting or his own hand. A fight, he wanted to get into a good, long, hard fight. He wouldn't find one here, every agent he'd try to fight wouldn't last ten second in the mood he was in. Where was Creed when you needed to beat the hell out of him? Logan thought angrily. Then he stopped dead in his tracks, he didn't have Creed, but her had Mystique. Logan sighed, scrubbed his hands over his face, he couldn't just take everything out on her, no matter how bad he wanted too. He'd go talk to her, probably she'd take a shot at him, if he was lucky, that meant he'd have a chance to defend himself. He moved through the collection of cells with a purpose, to the one cell that was closed off. He flashed an id card to the guards before stepping inside the first cell, which kept Mystique separate from the guards. A second door opened and when Logan stepped through Mystique was already on her feet, lunging towards him. Logan sidestepped, grabbed her arm, and pinned her hard to the nearest wall. He had one hand around her throat, the other was in a fist, pressed against her side.

"One move, one shift and I swear I'll make you my personal pin cushion," Logan hissed, perfectly ready to take a few shots at her.

"What do you want?" Mystique asked, staying perfectly still against the wall.

"Why the hell are you involved in all of this?"

"Figure it out yourself," she spat, but Logan wasn't in the mood to deal with another difficult prisoner. He slammed Mystique against the wall again, lifting her higher, still pressing his fist to her side.

"You wanna repeat that?" He said, dangerously calm and cold. Mystique glared at him, keeping silent and Logan tightened his hand around her throat.

"All right," Mystique croaked, pulling at his hand.

"What's that?" Logan sneered, tightening his hold again.

"All right!" Mystique yelled, and Logan loosened his hold just enough so she could breathe easy, "Put me down."

"No." When Mystique made to lash out at him, Logan pressed the hand he had at her side harder against her, "Pin cushion."

"I wasn't involved in this," Mystique taunted, "Whatever little terrorist group did this, I wasn't involved. I was trying to get to the President, he was going to meet with Charles and the amazing Dr. Chandler after the talks today, and I was going to go with them."

"Who were you pretending to be?" Logan hissed.

"Margaret Wayne," this time Mystique sneered at him.

"One of the agents watching the Doc," Logan growled, "What happened to your partner?"

"You mean Trask right hand man? Didn't know that did you? Well, Trask and Akelm were pretty close, sounded like Akelm took orders right from Trask," Mystique shoved the information in his face, "Should've looked closer into the people you put near your precious doctor." Unable to control the wave of anger, at himself and her, he threw Mystique across the room before stalking out of room. He was looking for something to hit when Fury found him pacing a hallway.

"Logan," Fury started.

"It was Akelm," Logan said, almost yelling, "Akelm, the guy we couldn't find, he was working with Trask."

"What? How do you," Fury shook his head, "Late, tell me later. Trask has sent us another tape." Logan growled low in his throat and followed Fury right back to the office where his day had started. "Play it," Fury told an agent as soon as they were both in the room.

After a few seconds of static Trask's face took up the screen, "Hello, once again, S.H.I.E.L.D., how nice to see you all. I bet you're having a hard time finding Dr. Chandler, even with that little helper. Yes, I already know you've talked with patrolman Neal Hardy, but he's not going to help you. And the van, you'll find the van in a little town near Saskatoon. I bet you'd like to see Dr. Chandler now that all those formalities are out of the way, wouldn't you?" Trask reached out and picked up the camera, "She's doing surprisingly well for everything I've done to her. Just keeps healing herself." Trask voice said while the camera showed the small interior of a cabin. "You wouldn't believe the things I've managed to find out about her, it's just stunning what the technology my father left me can do." The camera showed a door, and when it opened snow was everywhere around a thick forest. Off in the distance Logan could see a shed, barely covered with siding and a roof.

"Lovely isn't it?" Trask's voice over commented, then took a deep breath, "Smell that fresh air. Well, let's get back to the doctor, shall we? She's remarkably strong, even tried to get away from me once, found her about oh maybe thirteen hours later." Trask talked while the camera got closer and closer to the shed, the sound of snow crunching under feet could be heard just under Trask's voice.

"She was almost dead you know, but I couldn't let her escape the time limit, that would ruin the message," Trask said as he stopped outside the shed, "She's doing better now." He opened the door, and in the light coming in from the door one pale and trembling leg could be seen, "Dr. Chandler, you have visitors." Shafts of light came in through the ceiling and the walls, and when the camera went completely inside. Logan hissed through his teeth when he saw Hope. She was lying on her side, her hands free and lying limply in a pool of light. He could see the tips were going blue, and that they would be rocked by tremors every few seconds or so. He heard Trask kneel down and the camera went close to Hope's face.

"Have anything to say, Dr. Chandler?" Her eyes were wide and sightless, her mouth was hanging open, her lips pale and blue, but she swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes over the camera.

"Bastard," she whispered, her voice a raw tear from her throat, and it tore at Logan.

"Now, now, this is going to S.H.I.E.L.D., don't you have words of encouragement for them? Keep trying, chin up and other such good things?" Trask's hand came into view and tilted Hope's chin up. "Anything at all?"

It was then the light caught a few tears rolling down Hope's face, "Help me," she said in that same torn whisper, "Please, Logan, help me." Trask dropped Hope's face and turned the camera back on himself.

"This is what should happen to all of you," He said, a wild look in his eyes, "All of you mutant filth and mutant lovers should suffer. You're nothing but worthless, soulless, filth…" Logan lunged forward, vision red with rage and punched his hand right through the screen. He pulled his hand back out, grabbing the television and threw it with everything he could manage into the wall. Rage, black and almost painful took him over, even as Fury tried to calm him down, he couldn't get past the image of Hope's eyes. Lost, in pain, calling out for him, it was haunting him. He grabbed chairs and destroyed them, until nothing was left under his hands and his world went black.

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Fury stood in the destroyed office, Logan flat on his back due to the agent who had used a high voltage stun gun on him. He knew Logan was running on low energy and too much emotion, but he knew Canada well and could maybe recognize the place. "Take him to a cell and let him sleep it off. When he wakes up, he'll be angry so make sure there's no innocent bystanders around." Two guards stepped in, picked up Logan underneath the arms and dragged him from the room. "Call me when he's awake." Trask was crazy, there was no two ways about it, his father was perfectly lucid, but the son was a nut case. Fury crossed the room and ejected the tape from the VCR, he had to finish watching it, but in another room. It was lucky that when Logan had lost control he hadn't broken the tape or the VCR. This was good evidence, and once Logan was awake again, he'd try and get him to place where it was in Canada Trask might be. Six days left on the clock, his best man was down, and there was no call from the Institute. Logan had managed to get two of the three men to talk about the plan and the agents who were helping in the case were running down every little lead they could find. All that worried Fury was Dr. Chandler, Trask was keeping her right on the edge of life, he'd double check with S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors just to make sure, but she was the unknown variable. Any minute she could slip right through their fingers because a mad man was taking care of her.

"Colonel Fury," An agent popped his head in the door, "Agent Logan is awake."

Fury glanced at his watch, frankly surprised Logan had stayed down this long, "I'll be right there."

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Author's Note: Can I abuse Hope or Logan anymore? I feel like something you'd scrape off the bottom of a shoe after writing this. I don't think there's going to be much more abusing, I'm pretty sure there's only going to be three or four more chapters after this one. Please read and review.

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	10. Chapter Ten

Hope Returns

Chapter Ten

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: Well I'm not stuck in the house anymore; I've gotten myself another job. The community center is doing Guys and Dolls as their summer musical, I can't act in it because of my cast, so I offered my services as a vocal coach. It's actually volunteer work, but I get to spend a lot of time singing, I love singing. Anywho, I think I'm running into a rut, so if there's a long pause between this chapter and chapter eleven, you know why. Please read and review.

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When Logan opened his eyes again most of the red haze was gone, it still lingered at the edges of his vision, but he could clearly tell he'd been placed in a cell. After someone had knocked him out. Logan had had enough. He was done with S.H.I.E.L.D. Done with dealing with the government and political bullshit. He was going to get Trask on his own, and deal with the bastard the best way he knew how. He sprung up from the cell cot, claws all ready out, slashing the cell door to nothing but a few metal stubs. There were no guards to get in the way of his anger, and frustration, only Fury stood on the other side of the bars.

"I'm done, Patch," Logan informed him, "I'm outta here."

"Logan…" Fury tried to break through, but within second Logan had him against the wall and had his claws inches away from Fury's face.

"Done damn it! I'm on my own," Logan growled, "And if you send you little agents to stop me, you're going to end up regretting it." Logan let him go and stormed away. He wasn't angry anymore so much as he was determined to get his hands on Trask.

"We've gone over this Logan, if you go off on your own…" Fury called, "You're making this too damn personal!"

"It is personal!" Logan yelled back, turning around to march back towards Fury, "You've seen what he's doing to her. You and your damn governmental policies won't do enough to find him! You can take your paperwork and sit around reading notes, but I'm going to find her. Before she's dead." Logan listened while Fury tried to make his argument, but Logan was beyond actually hearing them. He was going to Canada himself, he was going to track Trask down the best way he knew how, on his own. He'd start in Manitoba, with the van, and the donut shop in a little town near Saskatoon. Then he remembered what Mystique had said, Akelm, the other agent was supposed to be Trask right hand man. Logan needed a high power computer, one that could hack into sealed or private records and he needed one fast. It would take time though, even if he used the Institute's computers, digging up anything useful he'd have to go through tons of worthless information. He didn't want to spend that much time on the computer search, he had six days, and he wanted to get to Hope. So, he needed someone he could trust, someone who knew how to manipulate computers and quickly get the information to him. He needed Hank.

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"There are no computers like that around here that I can get access to," Hank said, outside Charles's hospital room, "I'd have to go back to the Institute."

"Then go back," Logan said.

"While you go wandering around Canada by yourself? Logan I want to go with you," Hank said, "I'm as good at tracking as you are, especially outdoors."

"I work better on my own." Logan turned his back towards Hank, "You're shoulder is still stiff and sore. You're not well enough to do any tracking." Logan heard Hank sigh, and turn back, "You can still help out, Hank, look into Akelm for me, see what you can find out."

"I'll look to see if he owns any property in Canada, near where you said the van was left. You'll have a way for me to reach you, correct?" Hank asked.

"Got my phone," Logan answered, "Thanks Hank."

"I finally get to help," Hank said more to himself than Logan, "Sitting here made me feel a little useless."

"I've been spinning my tires with S.H.I.E.L.D.," Logan mumbled, "Look, if you can take Charles back with you, and Ororo, take them. I want everyone out of Washington. There's no reason to stay here now anyway."

"And if S.H.I.E.L.D. turns up anything new before we do?"

"Can't do anything about that. They won't move as fast, though, I'm the best they had."

"There may be a way actually," Hank glanced sidelong at Logan, "If I'm careful I might be able to get their records and reports on this."

"You think you can hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Well, it's something. I'll check with the doctors," Hank said, "You should start for the border."

"I'm going to go through the Capitol building before I head north, but if Fury or some other agent shows up, I'm already one the way north."

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The Capitol was still closed down, only S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were allowed inside the building. If Fury had spread the word that Logan was no longer working for S.H.I.E.L.D. getting in was going to be tricky. He didn't want to hurt the guards, if he could help it, but he wanted another look inside. If they got in the way, he'd just make them move. The guards watched him as he climbed the steps, but didn't stop him when he walked past them and stepped inside. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked towards the room where the attacked had taken place. In his mind, as he walked through the hallways, he walked through the attack. He could see the people who knew what was about to happen sneaking other members in, or getting out of the way. Then the members who were outside took out the news vans, at the exact same time, and then contacted the member inside. The inside members replaced the guards and let in the members outside. Now Logan stood outside the doors, or what was left of them. He could see them attaching the explosive, backing up and letting them blow. He walked through the remaining doorframe, walked to the middle of the room and stood there. The room hadn't been cleaned up yet, rubble was lying over the floors, benches and chairs were still lying upside down or on their sides, and the hole from his fist was still in the podium. He had come here looking for the one thing he needed before going north, Trask scent. He stood in the middle of the room sniffing the air for scents. He'd never met Trask, so finding his scent would take a little detective work, but Logan had an idea on how to find it. He moved to stand over where Hope had gone down, kneeled down to get closer and breathed her in. He slowly worked over the scent patch, sniffing left to right trying to find where Hope's scent mixed with an unfamiliar one. Scents could mix when one person stuck another, and Logan was pretty sure that had happened when Trask struck Hope. He found a small patch of unfamiliar scent, drew it deep into his nostrils and made sure he remembered it. If he came across this scent again, he could track it, and if it was mixed with Hope's scent, he knew it was Trask's. Logan stood, took in the whole room and went to the door where Trask had come in through. The S.H.I.E.L.D. technicians had been over the door, twice, and hadn't found any trace of evidence. But Logan sniffed his way around the frame, looking for the same scent he found around Hope's, the scent could be stronger here. He found it not on the frame that was inside the room, but on the outside, on the wall where Trask must have leaned before going into the room.

"Mr. Logan." Logan turned around and came face to face with two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. "Colonel Fury has given orders not to let you enter here."

"If you'd follow us, we'll escort you outside." Logan thought about roughing the agents up a bit so he could continue looking through the room, but he felt a sense of urgency now. Like something was tugging him, telling him to go.

"All right," he said on a shrug and followed the two agents back outside into the winter. He stood there at the base of the steps looking up at the Capitol building, planning. He needed a car, something that could handle the rigors of a Canadian winter, and something that could make Hope comfortable when he found her. He thought about going back to the Institute and using the van, but it was too conspicuous. He needed something to blend in with normal traffic, in case Trask had people on the look out for anything suspicious, like the van would be. Problem was Logan's personal vehicle was his bike, not a good choice for traveling in winter. Hope's SUV was back at the Institute, it was beefed up a little, and would easily blend into the traffic in Canada. He could pick up some of his supplies there, he could even take some of the students with him. No, he thought, shaking his head and turning away from the Capitol. He'd leave the students there, just in case Jean got something on Hope. He worked better alone anyway. He'd head back to the hotel, get everything he needed to leave, and make his way to Bayville. He'd hunt down the keys to Hope's car, then take off, the border wasn't that far.

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Hope didn't feel the cold anymore, and that was a bad sign. When the light was just right and she could see her fingers, she knew they were well on their way to being frost bitten. Her toes, well, she didn't like to think about how she couldn't feel those anymore. Often she'd throw around bolts, trying to heal herself, but that quickly wore her out. She slept only when she wasn't shivering so hard that she'd wake herself up and most of the time late at night she was shivering. If Trask continued to keep her like this, she'd be dead in a few days. By now, she'd figured out that was the point, Trask was going to make sure she was dead by the time anyone found her and he'd probably broadcast it live to America. His pension to make videos of her suffering just reinforced her belief that he was going to make a statement out of her. She wondered who was taking care of her family a lot. She wished she had called her parents one last time to tell them she loved them, and her brother, she wished she called him too. She thought about the Institute too, but that always led her to think about Logan. She'd asked for his help in the last video Trask had taken, because she'd been thinking about him when Trask had come in. He would come, Hope told herself, he would come. Holding on to that hope, she could hold on to her life. Southern tenacity made her fight, desperation made her pray, and she even called out for Jean and Charles, but never got an answer. Trask was blocking them somehow she thought, and probably thought it was funny that she couldn't even find relief there. She wasn't thirsty anymore, though. Melting snow dripped in through the cracks in the roof and Hope would drag herself to where the strongest stream was and drink from it. She was starving though, but just like a cold, the gnawing hunger in her stomach was just something she dealt with. This day was made worse by a head ach, which was harder to ignore than usual. There was nothing to distract her from the pain, just pounding there in the back of head. When she heard the crunch of snow, Hope shifted closer to the nearest corner, trying to hide. Sometimes animals would wanted into the shed and sniff around her. She didn't like some of the larger animals, who looked at her as if she was a tasty snack. It was an animal this time, but one that wouldn't eat her, it was Trask, with the video camera.

"How are you doing today Doctor?" He asked, his footsteps on the floor underneath Hope just intensified the pounding in her head and made her wince. "You're looking just a little ragged. Ah, your getting a little frostbite on your toes I see. You know I expected that would set in a little earlier."

"Go away," Hope pleaded, closing her eyes. His voice was abnormally loud, and made her headache worse. It was making her feel sick, dizzy and she trembled from something other than the cold.

"Well, this is new," Trask picked up her face and forced one eye open, "What's wrong Doctor?" Hope whimpered and shied away. Everything was starting to hurt, and in her weakened state Hope couldn't control her powers. She felt more than saw the bolts that were flying around her and Trask.

"What are you doing?" Trask yelled, which didn't help and Hope actually sobbed against the pain. She lost even more control, dragged herself to her knees, and clutched her head in her hands. The pain from the headache was worse than the cold, than the dark and the fear. It was trying to break her skull apart from the inside, and Hope clutched her head tighter, trying to keep it together. Trask was still yelling, crying out in what sounded like pain. His yelling made the headache worse, and soon she couldn't feel anything but the pain. Couldn't hear anything but her own ragged sobbing. And couldn't see anything, all was lost in blinding white.

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Author's Note: Have you noticed that Logan is now thinking of Hope not as "the Doc" but by her name? Isn't it great? Makes me happy. Look, I know I said I wouldn't abuse Hope anymore, and I'm mostly done, I swear. Another cliffhanger ending, I know, but the next chapter is Logan's search, probably it will be another chapter with no Hope in it at all. We'll find out about what happened to her later. This chapter's rather short too, probably should have made it part of chapter nine now that I think about it. Ah well, too late now. Anyway, please review.

Lily


	11. Chapter Eleven

Hope Returns

Chapter Eleven

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: If there is one thing I have learned from this, it's that I like writing Logan, but he's a hard character to keep in character. I keep trying to hang on to his character, which I've only really started to understand, and not deviate from what I know. I'm also writing Hank a lot too, but his character is easier to write for me than Logan. I miss writing everything from Hope's point of view, but that would make this a very short story. Anyway, enough ranting for me, here's chapter eleven. Please read and review.

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Île-a-la-Crosse was a town big enough that it was on a map of Saskatchewan, and riddle with donut shops. Logan had learned in Saskatoon that a van matching the description of the one Trask had been driving had turned up in Île-a-la-Crosse. Logan had quickly driven to the town, but S.H.I.E.L.D. already had the van, and it was long gone. The police wouldn't tell him anything about where the van had been found and warned him to stay out of the investigation. He hadn't listened to the warning, instead he was going to donut shop after donut shop showing around a picture of Trask and a picture of Hope, asking the owners if they had seen the two, the van and which car they might have driven off in. So far he'd turned up nothing, but the sun had only just set and donut shops stayed open late in this part of the country. He was getting a little tried of the smell of dough and sugar, he realized as he stepped into another donut shop. There was a marginal crowd in this one, but when he asked for the owner at the register he got a smile and the employee went to find her. He leaned comfortably against the front counter, a little off to the side, while waiting. When he had first crossed the border and gotten into the first stretch of lonely forest road he was surprised by the idea that he actually missed Canada. He came back often enough; he remembered things about his past sometimes when he wandered around the backcountry roads. It was home as much as any place was. His first stop had been Manitoba and Neal Hardy. Hardy had been very helpful, taking him to the exact spot where he'd stop Trask and the van. Logan had picked up on Hope's scent, he'd picked up on Trask's too and the van's. Logan had started following the scent trail, stopping at every intersection, cross road and turn to get out of Hope's SUV and make sure he was still following the trail. Trask had taken a very round about way to Saskatoon, but it was clear to Logan that each turn he had taken served a purpose. The Saskatoon authorities had been about as helpful as the Île-a-la-Crosse authorities, but they had told him where the van had turned up. When he'd stopped outside this donut shop there had been customers lingering in the parking lot, which left him unable to sniff out the scent of the van if it had been there, he did not want someone calling the authorities on him. So he had strode inside and ended up waiting for the owner. A few minutes of waiting later a plump woman came up to Logan.

"Heard you were asking for the owner," She said, "What do you want?"

"Did this man stop in? Maybe with this woman?" Logan held out the pictures of Trask and Hope, which the woman plucked out of his fingers and studied with a frown.

"Never seen the woman before, but the man, yeah, he was here," The woman handed the pictures back to Logan.

"When?"

"About a day or so ago. He asked if anyone could give him a ride north."

"He say where north?" Logan frown, north was a very big direction in Canada, and the farther you got from the border the less populated it became. Only a few small towns, hunting and ice fishing cabins would be in the north. There were a few forts too, how close would Trask get to them or would he start going west towards Alaska?

"Said just the Northwest territory border," The woman said, bring Logan's attention back to her. The woman looked him up and down and then shifted where she stood, "You one of them American private eyes?"

"Something like that. Anyone give him a ride?"

"No," The woman shook her head, "No one here's dumb enough to give a ride to a stranger, but we pointed him towards the bus depot. Just about a mile or so east of here, but they were closed, so he came back. We pointed him towards an inn, Falling Leaf Inn, it's a little place tucked back into the woods at the other edge of town."

"You hear about anything odd happening up there?" Logan asked. A little place tucked in the woods, secluded, but close to a town, sounded like a good hiding spot.

"Nope, it's the off season and the owner, Ms. LeBec she doesn't get a lot of visitors up there this time of year. She only comes in to town once in a blue moon though, so if anything happened we wouldn't know about it for a while." Logan's frown deepened, it sounded like the perfect hiding spot.

"And you told this to this man?"

"Yup, he asked about the place, seemed pretty pleased with the idea." Logan scowled now, but thanked the woman and went back to the parking lot. He ducked into the shadows, and started sniffing. He followed his nose to a spot taken up by a beaten up pickup truck, the van had been parked there. He walked around to the back of the truck and picked up on Hope's scent as well as Trask's. So he'd taken her out of the van, Logan thought, standing staring at the snow as if it would tell him which way to go. Did he walk with her to the Inn? Logan sniffed again; the trail did lead towards the other buildings behind the donut shop, and towards the woods, which could be seen just beyond them. Still scowling Logan walked back to the SUV, jumped inside and pulled out his little tourist map of Île-a-la-Crosse. He found the donut shop, used a little black marker and drew a line from the shop, to the buildings behind it, and it ran straight to the Falling Leaf Inn. Logan turned the engine over, and still using the map followed the roads to the Falling Leaf Inn. Sitting in Hope's car was an unusual experience for him. He was surrounded by her scent, but she wasn't there with him. A lot of the time during this hunt he would just pull the SUV over to the side of the road to sleep for a few hours. He dreamed a lot about Hope when he did, most of the dreams weren't pleasant ones and were brought on by her scent. When he wasn't tormented by dreams of finding Hope dead, he had dreams about his past, which were equally disturbing. He didn't get a lot of rest, but he didn't need a lot of it. There was a long snow covered driveway that led to the Falling Leaf Inn, and when he reached the start of it, Logan got out of the SUV and sniffed. Trask had not come up the driveway, his scent wasn't there and neither was Hope's. Logan checked the line he'd drawn on the map, Trask would have come from the western side of the Inn, through the woods. Logan got back in the SUV, drove up the driveway and frowned at the sight of the Falling Leaf Inn. All the lights were off, unusual, as it was dark but not late enough in the evening for everyone to have gone to bed. Then again, the owner could have turned in early, but Logan thought that was unlikely. He got out of the SUV again, walked up the steps and knocked on the front door. He couldn't hear anything from inside, but didn't smell any blood.

"Anyone inside?" He called through the door and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, a pretty common thing in Canada, but when he stepped inside the Inn it was almost as cold as it was outside. "Hey! Anyone here!" He called again, then noticed the thermostat and turned on the heat.

"Ms. LeBec you in here!" Logan paused to listen then slid his claws out and started to move slowly through the first floor. The inn would have been a nice place, cozy and warm, but with the lights off and the air cold it had more of eerie feeling. It was in the kitchen when he heard a noise, like someone yelling for help, but very muffled. Logan followed the noise to a door, opened it slowly and saw steps to a cellar. He switched on the light before descending the stairs. At the bottom he saw a blonde haired woman tied up and tucked in a corner.

"You all right?" He asked, kneeling down and quickly cutting her bounds.

"A little cold," The woman said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Logan told the woman while helping her to stand, "You Ms. LeBec?"

"Yes," Ms. LeBec frowned up at him, "How did you know?"

"I'm looking for the man who tied you up," Logan said, "Why don't we go upstairs, we can talk there." Helping her climb the steps Logan set her down in a kitchen chair, then grabbed a blanket he had seen earlier and wrapped her up in it. Ms. LeBec was a tall woman, just edging into her forties, and was watching him with wide, shocked blue eyes.

"The thermostat is by the front door," Ms. LeBec said, "I should turn the heat back on."

"Already did," Logan said, staying standing by the back door. Trask had come through it, as well as Hope, he could smell them around it. He could also smell Trask on Ms. LeBec, the trail led down the stairs to the cellar, back up and through the front door. He wanted to follow it, but wanted Ms. LeBec's story first. "What happened to you?"

"A man came through the back door with a gun and a woman," Ms. LeBec recited, fidgeting with her hands, "He told the woman to wait here, unless she wanted him to shoot me, then forced me into the cellar. He tied me up and then left."

"Did he take anything?"

"My keys, I think he also took my truck."

"What kind of truck was it?"

"Turquoise Ford pickup, it has a white cab cover."

"Can I look around?"

"Are you an American police officer?"

"Something like that."

"Yes, I guess it can't do any harm."

"I suggest you call the authorities while I look around," Logan said.

"All right," Ms. LeBec said but clearly the shock was still clearing out of her head. Logan would do it himself once he was done with looking around. He walked back outside the front door, following the trail to a little wooden garage about ten feet away from the main house. The door to it was left open, there were tire tracks just beginning to fill in with snow that led right out of it and down the driveway. Logan stepped inside the garage and filled his nostrils with the scent of the truck. He looked around the garage a bit; trying to see if Trask had taken anything with him, but it looked like the only thing he took was the truck. When he stepped outside Logan knew hanging around was pointless. Trask's scent was stronger here, but it was old. Trask had taken the truck, Hope and run again. Had Trask really gone north towards the border between Saskatchewan and the Northwest Territory? Or was that a lie to throw S.H.I.E.L.D. off his trail? Only one way to find out. Logan walked back to the SUV, called the authorities and reported what had happened to Ms. LeBec. He then took off, went a few miles north on the road before pulling the SUV over and hiding it just inside the woods. He grabbed a flash light from a pack he had in brought with him and started walking down the road. He wouldn't go very far down the road, only to see if the scent stayed the same strength or got weaker. If it got weaker Trask went a different direction, maybe back south through the town and back to the main highway. But the scent stayed strong, Trask had gone north. So Logan walked back to the SUV and started north on the road. He'd stop at the next intersection, cross road, or turn and look for the trail again.

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Hank sat in the glow of the computer screen, reading another file on Peter Akelm. He was just about through his college record, which was so far sparklingly clean. Peter Akelm was a man of above average intelligence with the highest grade point average the university had ever seen. He was never late to class, past all his exams and tests, and never got into any sort of trouble. He worked on the school radio station, volunteered his time to old people and the mentally disabled. All in all Peter Akelm should be up for canonization any day now. Hank didn't like it. Like Logan and Fury a too perfect record was a tip off to him that something was wrong. He'd started with Akelm's FBI record, nothing wrong with that. Painstakingly reading every word, Hank had started working backwards from the FBI records, to college. While he had all of Akelm's school records, he had the Institute's computers running a search through the news and the newspapers for Akelm's name and any mention of Canada in the same article. He had yet to attempt hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers, when he finally ran out of things to search in the legal area, he'd try the illegal search.

"How's it going?" Scott asked, coming up behind Hank.

"So far nothing," Hank said, turning around to face Scott, "Does Jean have anything new?"

"No," Scott frowned, "Nothing yet."

"Has Logan called?"

"No, nothing from him either. Are you sure it was a good thing to let him go off on his own?"

"No," Hank answered honestly, "But he wasn't going to let any of us go with him anyway."

"He didn't take the van, you know," Scott said, sitting down next to Hank in another chair, "He took Dr. Chandler's car."

"Odd, but he probably has his reasons," Hank sighed, "He's not going to tell us everything."

"He never does," Scott muttered, "You think he'll find Dr. Chandler first?"

"He's good at what he does and very determined. If anyone's going to find her first, it's him or S.H.I.E.L.D."

"They're going to look for him," Scott said.

"Fury came to the hospital shortly after Logan talked me into coming back here," Hank thought about the encounter, "He seemed to be determined to get Logan back. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't seem happy with the way he left, again."

"What's up with him?" Scott asked angrily, "He's acting like…"

"A selfish teenager?" Hank suggested, and Scott nodded, "For as long as I've known Logan, which isn't very long mind you, he's been a loner. He works best by himself, he likes being in charge of people when he has to work with them, and it makes him come off as either selfish or egotistical." There's a lot more too it, Scott, Hank thought, but didn't explain it to the boy. Logan's past and his reasons for his behavior were not stories to tell a frustrated teenage boy. "He's just doing what he knows best."

"You want help?" Scott said after a while.

"Yeah, I've got the second computer running a search, can you start looking through what it's turned up."

"Sure thing," Scott pushed himself away from the first computer and rolled over to the second one. Hank stretched his arms towards the ceiling, annoyed when his shoulder protested the movement and then turned back to the computer. He read the last of the college report and was about to start what promised to be an equally boring high school transcript with Scott called out.

"Hey, the computer found something," He said, and Hank got up from his chair and walked over to stand over Scott's shoulder.

"It's a pretty old article," Scott said, "A Lieutenant Akelm was discharged without honors from Fort Smith, a Canadian military outpost, for attacking a higher raking officer. He vanished about a week later."

"I'll call Logan."

------

Logan was dreaming, this time his past was blending in with images of Hope and Trask. He was back in that tube, hooked up to hoses and breathing through the oxygen mask. Through the green water and glass he could see Trask, instead of the scientist he normally saw, standing over Hope. She was calling out to him, begging for his help, but no matter how hard he beat against the glass Logan couldn't get out. He pushed back from the glass, tried to slash the glass, but he had no claws. He stared at his hands, amazed that he didn't have them, then heard Hope calling out to him. He tried charging the glass with his shoulder, tried tipping over the tube, but nothing he tried worked. He was helpless, trapped inside the glass and could only watch as Trask pulled out a gun and turned it on Hope. She reached out to him, crying. Logan jerked awake at the gunshot, and the image of Hope falling back, dead. His heart pounding in his chest, Logan realized it wasn't the gunshot that had woken him; it was his phone, which was ringing loudly in the silence of the SUV. He picked up the phone while rolling the kinks out of his shoulders and pushing away the lingering image of the dream.

"What?" He asked, a little tersely, annoyed by the dream.

"I found something on Akelm," Hank said on the other end of the line.

"Yeah? What?"

"His great grandfather was discharged from the Canadian army, dishonorably. He was working at Fort Smith, went back to a town, Lutselke, and then left about a week later. After that no one heard from him again. I'm looking to see if I can get the military record, but thought you might want to check it out."

"Lutselke, that's in the Northwest Territory, correct?" Logan thought, reaching for the map he had of Canada.

"Yes, you want me to send the students up there? The town Hay River has an airport, they can pick you up there."

"No," Logan opened the Northwest Territory map, and started to scan it, "The trail isn't heading in that direction, but Trask takes some round about routes."

"Well, it could be nothing, but it was something," Hank said.

"Yeah. Have you found a connection between Akelm and Trask?"

"No, but I'm not completely through the records yet. Scott and Kitty are helping me with that."

"All right, the squirt's good with computers. Try narrowing your search of the records down to anything mentioning Akelm and Trask together. We need some proof they know each other before sending the kids to Fort Smith."

"Makes sense, but I'm going to have Jean check around there for any trace of Hope."

"Yeah, all right," Logan studied the map, "Call me back when you get something more." He hung up and thought about it. If Trask was heading to Lutselke and Fort Smith, then he knew something about Akelm's great grandfather, and that could prove that what Mystique had said was true, that Akelm was Trask second in command. If there were a cabin up there, it would be a good place for a hide out. The Northwest Territory was one of the least populated provinces in Canada. The weather made it particularly inhospitable, the winters were hard, and the summers short. It was a place with a lot of natural parks, Indian reservations and small distant towns. There was a down side to the gaps between towns; they were like separate countries to each other. If one town gossiped about a turquoise pick up coming through town, the next may not know the truck existed. There were tons of side roads that led to hunting cabins or ice fishing huts, and Trask could pick any of them to hide out. The scent trail was the only really solid thing to follow. If the truck had gone the way of Fort Smith or Lutselke, the trail would lead Logan that way, if it hadn't he'd have to follow it to where ever it might lead. He had pulled over just across the border, on another one of those back country roads he liked so much. There was no traffic around him, he couldn't hear anything but the sounds of the forest, so it seemed like the perfect place to rest. No passer by to ask if he was all right and wake him up. He glanced around the forest, but what had brought on the dream? He didn't feel or think he'd been here before. Often he would get a feeling of déjà vu when he came to certain places, but he was pretty sure he'd never been on this particular stretch of road before. So the dream had been the production of his exhausted mind and some stress. It still pissed him off he couldn't have a few dreamless naps along the roadside. He probably wasn't going to sleep well again until he was out of Canada and this whole mess was finished.

"_I need you!_ _Please Logan, help me!" _Dream Hope's pleading echoed in his head and Logan rubbed at his eyes, trying to get it out of his mind. He was still tired, but lingering images and Hope's echoing words from the dream made him turn the engine on. As he started on the latest road the scent trail had brought him to he glanced at the clock. Five days left.

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Author's Note: I have to thank my atlas and all the maps of Canada that it has. Personally I've never been to any of the towns mentioned in this chapter, so I might have described them wrong. You still don't have a clue what happened to Hope either, which I can tell is annoying you all. Well, I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I'm writing it.

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	12. Chapter Twelve

Hope Returns

Chapter Twelve

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: I am getting these chapters out really quickly, which I know you all enjoy. I want to thank all the reviewers, since I haven't in a while. You guys are the best! Here's chapter twelve for all of you, where things start to really pick up again. Please read and review.

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There were things Charles remembered while slowly coming to. He remembered the Capitol, covered in snow. He remember sitting with Ororo, Hank and Dr. Chandler in his hotel room, talking late into the night about the hearings. He remembered his parting words to the students, but most disturbingly he remember gunfire. He remembered sensing something was wrong while he listened to Dr. Chandler speak, he remembered the explosion that knocked him out of his chair, and he remembered the gunfire. He slowly clawed his way through the blackness, waking up step by step. When he opened his eyes he was staring at the Infirmary ceiling. He was in the Institute, he realized, why wasn't he in Washington? Charles pushed himself up so he was sitting, looking around the Infirmary for Dr. Chandler. She should be the one taking care of him, but the Infirmary was empty.

"_Dr. Chandler?"_ Charles tried mentally reaching her, but got no answer, _"Logan?"_

"_That you Charles?" _Logan thought back, sounding surprised and relieved, but also far away.

"_Yes, Logan, where are you?"_

"_Canada. Look, call for 'Roro or McCoy, they'll explain everything, but here's the long and short of it. Wilson Trask attacked the Capitol, he's got Hope locked up somewhere here, in Canada. I'm on his trail though," _Logan explained, but Charles sensed there was something more.

"_What aren't you telling me, Logan?"_

"_Can't hide anything from you. Trask has thrown down a time limit, the others don't know, but he's given S.H.I.E.L.D. a week to find Hope before kills her."_

"_I'll try reaching her telepathically."_

"_I wouldn't," _Logan cut in, _"Jean's been trying with Cerebro, hasn't had any contact. I figure he's blocking her somehow, like when Trask Sr. had me."_

"_Yes, that would make sense. Have you found anything?"_

"_A scent trail, I'm following it."_

"_Logan, before I go, how many days are left?"_

"_Four days." _ Charles let Logan slip away, four days, how long had he been out? Well, if he wanted answers he'd have to hear it from someone who was awake. He called for Ororo first, who answered right away and Charles could sense she was already on her way down to the Infirmary. He leaned back against the pillows and rubbed at his head. He was surprised to find it hurt a bit. He was recovering from a blow to the head, he'd been out for a very long time it seemed, stretching his powers so soon had probably caused it. When Ororo came through the door she instantly walked across the room and hugged him.

"It's good to see you're awake," She said, "We were getting worried."

"Time heals most wounds," Charles said, hugging her back, "But I'm very certain there's a lot I'm missing."

Ororo pulled back and sat down on the bed next to his, "There is. I don't really know where to start."

"Tell me about what's happened to Dr. Chandler," Charles suggested. That was what he was most interested, a long with the attack, but with four days left in the search he needed information on the kidnapping first.

"How did you know something happened to Hope?"

"I talked with Logan before you, he told me she was missing," Charles explained.

"Yes, she is. Wilson Trask turned out to be just like his father, staunchly anti-mutant. He attacked the Capitol building and took Hope. Logan has been part of the search for her from the beginning. He's in Canada now, following a scent trail. Jean did hear from her, a while ago, but hasn't since. She's been trying to get in contact with her again using Cerebro. Before you ask, she went and searched your mind for the code."

"Ah yes, I seem to remember that."

"We believed it was the best course of action," Ororo explained, "How do you feel Charles?"

"Glad to finally be awake. The students, how are they?"

"On edge, they're all waiting for Jean or Logan to find something." Ororo smiled at him, "They've been worried about you too, Charles."

"Well, get me some clothes and we'll go see them."

"Are you sure, Charles? Do you think you need more rest?"

Charles shook his head, "I've been resting for a while now, Ororo, I think it is time for some action."

------

Kitty loved computers; actually she loved hacking computers more than anything else. People thought she was a ditz, all because she said like and uh sometimes when talking, but sit her in front of the Institute's computers and tell her to find a file, she'd be after it with the determination of Jean the Perfect. She was kinda bored right now though; shifting through these files about the Akelm family was boring. These people were possibly the most boring people on the planet. They came from some no where town in Canada where they ran a general store, then moved to Buffalo to open another general store. Jeeze, these people didn't do anything put sell cheese and milk. Ugh, Kitty wanted a challenge, something fun, like hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D. She probably wasn't supposed to have heard Mr. McCoy talking about that, but it would be so cool to take on the government. Okay, so the few government computers she'd hacked into had been pathetically easy, but this was S.H.I.E.L.D. these guys were top notch. If Mr. Logan had worked for them, that meant they had to have some sort of high tech firewall. Kitty glanced over her shoulder to where Mr. McCoy was sitting staring at another computer scene. He wasn't really paying attention to her, he probably wouldn't notice if she took a side trip into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers.

"Anything interesting?" Scott asked and Kitty jumped. She'd forgotten Scott was also helping, or at least trying to help, he wasn't that good with computers.

"No," Kitty sighed, watching her chance to hack S.H.I.E.L.D. slip away, "Just some articles about like these stupid grocery stores."

"Yeah, Hank's getting most of the same," Scott said, "Logan hasn't called in either. Hank says he's on his way even farther north."

"Jeeze, he's going a long way for Doc Hope," Kitty commented, "I mean not that we wouldn't do the same thing, but he's made it like his own personal crusade or something."

"Hey, if any one of us was kidnapped he'd do the same thing," Scott said.

"Yeah, of course, but there's something going on between them," Kitty muttered more to herself than to Scott.

"What?" Scott looked astonished at the idea and Kitty rolled her eyes.

"You know Scott, sometimes you're a real dork when it comes to certain things," Kitty said whispering, "Doc Hope has a thing for Mr. Logan, haven't you noticed?"

"What? No way," Scott denied also whispering, "She's got something going with Hank."

Kitty rolled her eyes again, "You're so clueless." Scott looked about to argue, but the door opened and Kitty was spared.

"Professor!" Scott rushed towards the door, and Kitty jumped out of her seat, "You're awake!"

"Yes, Scott," The Professor reached up and placed a hand on Scott's shoulder, "How goes the search?" He asked, rolling further into the room.

"Slow," Mr. McCoy said, turning away from his computer, "I'm looking into both Trasks, to see if they have a connection to Agent Akelm."

"Agent Akelm? He was one of the FBI agents assigned to protect Dr. Chandler, what does he have to do with Trask?"

"Mystique was disguised as Agent Wayne, another agent assigned to watch out for Hope. In the attack on the Capitol she was knocked out and captured. When Logan went to…talk… with her she claimed that Akelm was Trask right hand man, we're looking into that."

"While Logan follows a scent trail through Canada," the Professor said, "Has Logan caught Akelm scent?"

"I don't know, he hasn't updated us today," Mr. McCoy frowned. Kitty watched the Professor who seemed to look through Mr. McCoy and knew he was using telepathy. Kitty always thought it was a little weird how the Professor could read thoughts, it was kinda of like someone reading your diary without your permission, but the Professor never read your thoughts without asking. He was good about those things.

"Logan says there's a snow storm, he's still tracking the scent, but it's harder in the weather," The Professor said after a minute, when he seemed to come back to the reality of the computer room.

"Kitty," The Professor turned towards her and Kitty smiled at him, "You haven't hacked anything recently have you?"

"No, just searching through the newspapers," Kitty blushed a bit, "I wouldn't hack anyway, not without like permission."

"Good," The Professor looked past Kitty's shoulder, "It looks like you have something." Kitty turned around and sat back down in her chair to start typing furiously.

"It's a change of name application," Scott said, looking over Kitty's shoulder, "Akelm changed his name."

"What?" Mr. McCoy walked over and stood looking over Kitty's other shoulder, "When?"

"Ten years ago," Kitty said, "His old name was William Stryker."

"Change the search," Hank ordered, "Look for anything connecting William Stryker and Trask." Kitty flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders and hunkered down.

------

The weather had gone to hell, or hell when it froze over. Logan could barely see five feet in front of him through the thick billowing snow. The temperature had dropped to twenty below, which wasn't too bad for this part of Canada, but he wasn't thinking about that. Hope was out in this, with nothing but a falling apart shed to protect her from the cold. The SUV was handling the weather well enough, but if he stopped there was a chance the oil in the engine would begin to freeze, leaving him on foot. That had its upsides and its downsides. While on foot Logan could track the scent better, but on foot he'd move slower, and he didn't have time to waste. There was some good news though, Charles was awake, finally and had joined in the search. Jean may not have been strong enough to reach Hope, even with Cerebro's help, that wouldn't be a problem for Charles. Damn, Logan thought pulling the SUV back to the correct lane as a strong gust of wind pushed it to the other side of the road. He should stop, pull over to the side of the road somewhere and wait the storm out, but he didn't have the time to wait. Four days left, Logan glanced at the clock, and it was slowly closing on three. He didn't have a clue about how long the trail could be, if he continued at this pace he was going to run out of time. He couldn't go faster in the storm without risking getting in an accident, and then he'd be left on foot, even slower. He could ask for the jet to pick him up, but then tracking the scent would be harder. His best option was to continue at the pace he was at and hope Charles or hell even Fury got something new. His phone rang, Logan glanced at it on the seat next to him, the Institute was calling.

"Yeah," Logan said when he answered.

"We've got news," Hank said without preamble, "Big news."

"All right, what is it?"

"Peter Akelm's real name is William Stryker, there's a cabin owned by Stryker's father about 120 kilometers from Fort Good Hope. The team is on its way, but the bad weather's going to slow them down."

"Who the hell is Stryker and what does he have to do with any of this?" Logan asked, the driving made even more difficult with one hand on the wheel.

"Here's what Kitty's been able to get so far. Trask Sr. meets with his lawyer, the lawyer meets with a client named William Stryker."

"And Akelm who is really Stryker meets with Trask Jr. Damn it, all right, well tell 'Roro to get up here, she's got do something about this damn weather," Logan yelled.

"She's on her way, but there's no guarantee. Logan, you're the closest, you have the best chance of reaching Hope."

"Damn it, Hank, the storm can't last that long!"

"It's a not just a storm, it's a blizzard," Hank growled, "The Canadian weather service says it's one of the worst on record. Until Ororo gets up there, you've got the best chance of finding the cabin, and what do you mean the storm can't last that long?"

"Never mind," Logan hung up and tossed the phone into the backseat. He checked the gas gage; he probably had enough to take him to the next town, and floored the gas pedal.

Author's Note: Did anyone see that coming? Did you? No, I bet you didn't! Ha! Anywho, you hated Trask, just wait until you meet my version of Stryker. While he won't be exactly like his comic counter part, you'll know he's Stryker. Stay tuned for more!

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	13. Chapter Thirteen

Hope Returns

Chapter Thirteen

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: I'll start off with a language and violence warning for this chapter. If that bothers you please, don't read. If it doesn't, man, are you going to love this chapter. Please read and review.

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Hope woke sore, stiff and cold in what looked like the middle of the night. Her stomach rolled in protest when she opened her eyes, and the room spun. She closed her eyes again before pushing herself up on her arms, and leaning back against the nearest wall. She took deep breaths while listening to the howling winds and the groan of the shed. What had happened? Hope thought, her mind blank for a bit, but then it came back. Trask. She opened her eyes, the room didn't spin this time and she saw Trask. He was lying in front of the door; there was frozen blood around his mouth, his eyes, ears and nose. Hope crawled forward, ignoring the pain from moving and pressed two fingers against Trask's neck. His skin was cold under her fingers, there was no pulse there either. Dead, Hope realized, while she looked down at him. Stone, cold, dead and by the look of him for a while now. She scrambled back from the body, horrified because she had killed him. She had to be the one, her last memories of Trask were him crying out in pain while she lost control of her powers. What had she done to him? How could she have done such a thing? For a few minutes Hope could think of nothing else but the fact that she had killed someone, then she crawled to the nearest corner and tried to vomit, but with her stomach empty nothing came up. Horrified Hope looked back at the body, the blood and those wide sightless eyes.

"Oh god," She said to the storm outside and the dead man, "I'm so sorry." What now, she wondered and survival kicked in. She had to run, get out of here and fast. She pushed herself to her knees, then used the wall and pulled herself to her feet. Her legs were cramped, standing was painful, but she walked unsteadily along the wall, watching the body the whole time. She had the irrational fear that Trask would get up, that he wasn't really dead and he'd come after her. When she reached the door, Hope slid her hand through a large crack and pushed against it. She put her full weight into it, but she was all skin and bones now, and it wouldn't move against the bank of snow outside. She pulled, pulled hard, the iced hinges gave way and Hope fell backwards. The fall to the floor and the cold wind from the open door took Hope's breath away, which left her with almost no breath for a scream. She had landed right on top of Trask. In a panic she scrambled away from the body and the door. She could feel the cold blood on her hands, and gave in to the urge and sobbed once. Run, run, run, run her mind chanted, Hope got back to her feet and ran. She stepped over the body, blindly running into the snow. Her feet screamed in shock from the cold, and the wind whipped the snow around her, making it hard for her to see, but she went blindly on. There had to be a cabin somewhere, some place for Trask to stay. There was only one door to the shed, Trask had to come directly from the cabin, had to. Hope was breathing hard, the icy wind made it harder and harder with every step, but she could see it, the outline of a cabin through the snow and the wind. She stumbled towards it, towards sanctuary. There might be a phone inside, Hope thought, she could call the Institute, get help. Oh god, what if there were more people inside? More people like Trask? Hope stopped, standing in the middle of the snowstorm, wondering which way she could go. God she was so lost, and if she went to the cabin there'd be a chance she'd just end up back in the shed. But she had no other option that she could see, running towards the woods, she'd end up in a worse situation. Her only option was to continue forward, towards the cabin and maybe a phone. When she came to the front door she waited, straining her ears to hear past the wind in case someone was inside. She couldn't hear anything over the roar, decided to risk it and pulled on the door. It opened easily and Hope almost cried when a wave of heat washed over her. Forgetting her fear of someone else being inside Hope rushed in, closed the door and collapsed against it. Oh god, her toes, fingers, nose, and chin, ears and lips started to pound and the pounding became pain. She looked at her hands, the tips of her fingers were yellowish, but mostly white, almost completely frostbit. She had to tend to them, or else risk losing them. Hope looked around her, it was a very small cabin, a bed was right against the far wall, the kitchen was behind a table, but Hope was looking for a bathroom. Her best chance of finding a first aid kit was there. She pushed herself up by the door again, started at a stumbling walk for the kitchen, hoping a bathroom was somewhere between her and it. There was one, small and cramped, but when Hope pulled open the single cabinet there was a first aid kit. She pulled it out, her fingers stinging along with everything else while she pulled out cotton swabs and cotton bandages. She turned on the sink, using lukewarm water; she ran her fingers under the stream while waiting for the sink to fill. Once it was filled, Hope plunged her fingers in, it hurt like hell, but the treatment called for. She couldn't use water that was too hot, she could do permanent damage that way, and too cold and she'd do nothing but make it worse. Once her fingers were red again, and warm, she ran a few cotton balls under the water and held them to other places that she suspected she had frostbite at. Her fingers were bleeding; the blisters from the frostbite had cracked when she had used her fingers. Normally you didn't want to break any of the blisters, it increased the chances of infection, but Hope decided to take it as a good sign. There was blood flow to the area, when she got herself to a hospital, and if she didn't get an infection, she'd be able to keep her fingers. Hope glanced down at her feet, her toes were bleeding too from the walk over and standing. She wrapped her feet first in cotton balls and then bandages. On her hands she used the few gauze pads the first aid kit had draping them all around her hands before wrapping them. The worst part of the whole thing was the hydrogen peroxide she had to slather over the cracked skin, it burned but Hope blinked through the tears and kept applying it. When she was finished wrapping Hope was exhausted, whatever energy she had was gone, and she slid weakly to the floor. She had to look for a phone, she had to call for help, drawing on what little reserves she had Hope pulled herself to her feet and used the walls for support to make her way out of the bathroom. There wasn't a phone in the kitchen though; there wasn't one by the bed, or anywhere else in the cabin. The cabin didn't have a phone, Hope realized, clinging desperately to wall. Oh god, she was in the middle of nowhere Canada without a clue where to go and she couldn't call for help. She stumbled away from the wall, aiming for the bed, she'd sleep to get some energy back then she'd be able to think. She stopped by the small table, the keys to the truck were shining up at her. Maybe she should take them, run to the truck and just drive until she found a town.

"No, no," Hope told herself, shaking her head drunkenly, "I'd drive into a tree and kill myself." She took the keys though, holding them tight in her bandaged hand as she stumbled to the bed. Can't sleep on top though, Hope thought, sliding to her knees and the floor. She'd sleep underneath it, just in case Trask came back. "He's dead, Hope, dead," She told herself as she crawled under the bed. She curled up, the keys clutched to her chest, and fell into a terrified sleep.

------

When Hope woke, the storm was still going full steam ahead outside, but she wasn't listening for the wind, she was listening to footsteps. Paranoid and terrified, Hope stayed as still as a mouse that was staring down a cat, waiting to hear Trask's footsteps, or his laughing way of saying her name. She kept her eyes squeezed tight, begging for no one to be inside, but herself. She lay there, under the bed for maybe fifteen minutes before she dared to slide out from underneath it. The cabin was still empty, and Hope laughed a little in relief. She quickly had to clamp her mouth shut though, the laughter was turning into hysterical sobbing. Keep it together girl, Hope told herself, you can't lose it just yet. Hope winced, her empty stomach cramping tightly, distracting her from her fear. She should eat something, maybe pack something to take with her when she ran, Hope thought, getting to her feet. Hope didn't bother with the fridge or any of the cabinets, the first thing she saw was a bowl of apples and she went straight for them. She took a huge bite from one, chewed it twice and swallowed. It hit her stomach and Hope groaned against a wave of nausea. She had to eat slowly, and only small portions. Her stomach had been empty for so long, a lot of food eaten very quickly would make her sick. Hope forced herself to control the gnawing hunger, taking only small bites from the apple and waiting at least two minutes before taking another bite. To her eating the apple seemed to take forever, but her patience paid off, by the second apple she could eat at a normal rate again. While she ate, Hope started planning. She'd head south, towards the States and when she came to a town she'd call for help. No, Hope thought, she'd get straight into police protection and the first police car or Mounty she saw, Hope was going to get help. She'd have to deal with talking about what happened to her, but she'd get out of the damn cabin if it killed her. At the sound of tires crunching through snow Hope froze like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Someone was here. Someone most likely a friend of Trask, or maybe Trask himself. No, no, Hope told herself, you have the keys, Trask is dead in the shed, it's not him. Still it could be a friend of Trask's, Hope reasoned, she needed to protect herself. She looked around the kitchen, her eyes searching for any sort of weapon and when they landed on a block of knives, she went for them. She grabbed the biggest handle, pulling out a six-inch knife, then she curled into the smallest ball she could make and waited.

She found herself rocking while she listened to footsteps and then a voice, "Trask! Trask! Where the hell are you?" Hope could barely breathe she was so afraid, the yelling voice was one she recognized, but in her panic state she couldn't figure out where from.

"Damn it Trask!" The back door to the cabin opened, and Hope tensed. She stopped rocking, stopped breathing and froze, watching the door to see who entered.

"Agent Akelm!" Hope threw the knife away and jumped to her feet when she saw who it was.

"Dr. Chandler?" Akelm looked confused, but Hope rushed him and hugged him tight.

"Oh god, I thought no one would ever find me," She sobbed, but Akelm pushed her away.

"Where's Trask?" He asked, and Hope blinked up at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Where's Trask?" Akelm asked again, shaking Hope a bit as if to focus her.

"In the shed," Hope pointed towards the other door, "Through there. He's dead."

"Oh shit," Akelm ran a hand through his hair, "Look, stay here. I'm going to go check on Trask, then get you out of here."

"All right, all right," Hope muttered, letting Akelm push her into a chair, then watched him while he went out the door. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a huge sense of relief at being found, alive. Akelm had found her, she was going to go home, she was going to be safe. Oh, god, Hope felt like breaking down, but jumped instead because the door of the cabin slammed open again. Akelm looked mad, raging mad, and strode over to her with fire in his eyes. Hope felt herself backing away, but Akelm grabbed her by the front of her shirt and lifted her into the air.

"What did you do to him?" Akelm yelled, shaking her hard, "What the hell did you do to him?" Hope wrapped her hands around Akelm's wrist trying to steady herself, but he just kept shaking her.

"Stop it!" Hope yelled, trying to break free, wondering what had gotten into Akelm. "Please!"

"You killed him you stupid bitch," Akelm growled, "You're going to pay for that."

"What?" Hope asked, but Akelm tossed her down to the floor, right into the legs of the table.

"Shut up." Akelm ordered, then walked away. While Hope struggled to get back on her feet, she watched Akelm walked over to a closet and pull out a shotgun. She watched in confused horror as he loaded two shells into the gun, then dump a bunch into his jacket pockets.

"Let's go," He ordered, pointing the gun at her. Hope realized something was wrong, she didn't know what, but she had to fight back. She flung her hands out, calling on her powers, but nothing flew towards Akelm, "Stupid. You're powers can't go through cloth." Akelm crossed the floor to Hope, ramming the butt of the shotgun into her stomach, "Stupid bitch mutant." Hope gasped, grabbing her stomach and blinking away tears. Akelm shoved the butt of the shotgun into her stomach again, "Move." He pushed her towards the door, and Hope stumbled towards it, unable to rationalize what was going on. What was Akelm doing? Could be really be that mad that she'd killed Trask? Why would he be mad that she killed him anyway? Hope stumbled into the storm, shivering as soon as the wind hit her. When she stopped, trying to back up to the shelter of the cabin, Akelm struck her across the back of her head and pushed her forward.

"Keep going," Akelm ordered, "To the black truck." Hope stumbled into the snow, giving in to more crushing fear. She was going to die, there was no way out of it this time. She could try and unwrap her hands, but the bandages were tight and Akelm would notice if she tried anything. If she ran, or turned to fight back, he'd shoot her in a heartbeat. She wasn't rescued, she was damned.

"Put the gun down, bub." Akelm shoved Hope into the side of the black truck when he turned to look, but Hope knew that voice.

"Logan!" She cried in relief, turning to look, but there was no one there. Had she just imagined his voice? Hope wondered, looking around, but from the worried look on Akelm's face, he had heard it too. Where was Logan then? Hope wondered, and then she saw the outline. Through the storm she could make out his shoulders, and the glint of his claws.

"Stay where you are," Akelm turned the shotgun on Logan, but Logan just kept coming. "Fine." Akelm turned the gun towards Hope, using the butt he caught her under the chin. Hope fell backwards from the blow, landing hard in the snow, then found herself staring down the two barrels of the shotgun. "You take another step and I'll shoot her." Logan instantly stopped and when Hope tried to scramble back, the barrel just got closer to her nose.

"You're going to let me get into the truck, you hear?" Akelm sneered. Hope looked towards Logan, who wasn't watching her, but Akelm. If he kept Akelm distracted Hope had a chance, she could roll underneath the truck, out of harm's way. Logan glanced once at her, quickly, and nodded, Hope almost didn't notice it was so slight, but she understood. He was going to keep Akelm distracted, giving her a chance to get away. He could get shot, Hope reminded herself, with how quickly he healed, he'd be okay.

"What do you want with her, Stryker?" Logan asked. Stryker? Who was Stryker? Hope wondered, looking up at Akelm.

"So you figured it out, huh? Well, a little late for that anyway," Akelm, no Hope though, Logan had called him Stryker, said, "I'm just going to go for a little ride with Dr. Chandler here."

"You know you're not got make it out of here alive," Logan challenged, "I'm gonna come after you."

"No you're not." But the barrel of the shotgun was pulling back from Hope's face, a few more inches and she'd be able to roll under the truck. "You're not going to risk her life."

"The Doc's pretty resilient, Stryker, you'd be surprised what she could take," Logan smiled, "I wonder how resilient you are?"

"I could turn this gun on you and test your resilience," Stryker boasted, and Hope actually prayed he would. Hope wanted the shotgun out of her face, it was almost as terrifying as Stryker himself.

"Bub, you want to test me, go ahead," Logan laughed, "I can take it." That was it, the barrel was far enough away and Hope rolled. The gun went off, burning into the snow where Hope used to have been. Now she was under the pickup, on her side. She could see Stryker's feet, and Logan's. Logan charged Stryker, Hope covered her ears when another shot went off and she could see blood falling into the snow.

"Damn it, it's you!" Stryker yelled, but Hope watched Logan's feet as they kept charging. The truck rocked onto two wheels when Logan connected with Stryker, and then the sounds of a fistfight began. Hope managed to roll onto her back under the truck, and while listening to the fight she started to pull at the bandages of one hand. If she got one hand uncovered, she could use her power and knock Stryker out. The bandages were tight around her hand though, and Hope cursed herself for wrapping them that way. What had she been thinking, her powers were her only way to defend herself, she shouldn't have wrapped her hands. But, Hope thought, you didn't know that your power couldn't go through cloth, how had Stryker known? She covered her head when she heard a thud from above, the weight pushed the bottom of the truck closer to her face. Hope tried to curl up when another thud came from above, but there was no room her it. She froze instantly as the sound of tearing metal, and Logan's claws came ripping through the truck inches away from Hope's head. Before she could think twice Hope raked the back of one hand across the claws, cutting the bandages and her hand. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, the claws had gone deeper than she'd thought they would, and god it hurt.

The claws vanished seconds later, "Forget she was down there?" Hope heard Stryker mock while she pulled at the few stubborn bandages. She heard a feral roar, and the truck bounced back to its normal height again. Hope now had enough room to move out from under the truck again, and rolled back into the storm.

She could see Logan, holding a beaten and bleeding Stryker over his head, "What did you mean by "it's you"?"

"Logan!" Hope yelled, pulling herself to her feet with her uninjured hand, "Let him go!" She held out her arm, the scraps of a few bandages hanging from her bleeding hand. She didn't know if her power would travel through to Logan when she hit Stryker, but she wasn't going to take the risk.

"I've got a few questions for this guy, Doc." Logan looked past Stryker to her, and Hope could see something feral in his eyes. Logan wasn't completely there, Hope realized, something was taking him over.

"Logan, let him go, I don't want to hurt you," Hope pleaded, watching him through the fingers of her hand.

"Doc…" Hope could see he was going to try and convince her, but she couldn't take anymore.

"I want this over with! Please, let him go." Hope begged, and Logan let go of Stryker. Hope let loose her power, letting it attack Stryker while he fell. He landed in the snow crying out, and remembering what had happened to Trask, she stopped. The only noise was the storm, it over whelmed Hope and she dropped to her knees. Logan ran over to her, also dropping to his knees in the snow in front of her.

"He might be dead," Hope mumbled, looking past him, watching Stryker, "I could have killed him like I killed Trask."

"Are you all right?" Logan asked, "Hope are you all right?" Hope looked away from where Stryker lay, up at Logan. His hands were on her shoulders, holding tight, and Hope was overwhelmed again. Hope threw herself at him, pressed her face into his neck and broke down crying. His arms came around her, holding on to her while she cried. She clutched at him until the flow of tears subsided, and then she was just drained. She felt Logan shift her, then stand, carrying her. The wind was getting more intense around them, and Hope turned her face into Logan's shoulder trying to keep the snow that was whipping around from striking her face.

"Is she all right!" Hope heard a voice yell from above, and looked up at the most beautiful sight she would ever see in her life. The X-jet was hovering overhead, Ororo was standing at the side hatch, apparently holding back the snowstorm and Kitty was yelling down to them.

"She's okay for now!" Logan yelled up to the jet, "Get Jean to take her up, I can wait for you to land!" Hope watched through half closed eyes as Jean appeared at the hatch, she placed a hand to her head and began to lift her from Logan's arms. What about Stryker, Hope thought, I want to be back in Logan's arms. She felt hands, helping to guide her into the jet from the outside, and pull her to a chair.

Kitty appeared in front of her, "Can you tell us what's wrong, Doc Hope?" Hope blinked, what was wrong with her? Hope remembered, her hand, she needed fluids and medical attention.

"You have the bag of supplies?" She asked, trying to push herself into sitting upright in the chair she'd been placed in, but had to have Kitty help her. Her mind was slow, but she could spout medical information and treatments in her sleep, even if it took her awhile to get it out.

"Yeah," Kitty looked over her shoulder where Jean stood with a large orange bag over her shoulder.

"Get a vitamin rich saline bag, start an IV, I'm malnourished and dehydrated," Hope managed, watching with a sense of pride when Kitty and Jean fetched what she needed without being told where to find them, "You both remember how to put in an IV, right?"

"Yeah," Kitty took the needle from Jean, "Hold out your wrist, Dr. Chandler." Hope held out her left hand, the uninjured one, to Kitty.

"Jean, get butterfly bandages, some iodine too," Hope turned her right hand over, looking at the scratches for the first time. She'd done some serious damage, the scratches started at her wrist, where they were fairly shallow, but where the scratches ended they were deep. The longest scratch was right to the second knuckle of her middle finger, and Hope wondered if she could see the bone once the blood was out of the way. "And a tourniquet, Jean," Hope added.

"What happened to your hand?" Jean asked, Kitty shifting to make room for her.

"I used Logan's claws like a pair of scissors. In hindsight, that wasn't the best idea I've ever had. Tourniquet first, I can't loose anymore blood." While Jean worked on her hand, and Kitty checked her pulse, blood pressure and oxygen levels, the jet touched down.

"Get in contact with S.H.I.E.L.D." Logan ordered, walking into the jet, Stryker tossed over his shoulder, "Tell them we have Trask, and Stryker." Logan tossed Stryker unceremoniously onto the floor of the jet.

"Where's Trask?" Scott asked, standing in the aisle between the seats.

"Shed, near the edge of the woods, he's dead." Logan didn't even look towards Hope when he said it, but Hope could feel he wanted too. There were so many questions they were going to ask, Hope thought, and I don't want to answer them. I want to forget this ever happened and go home.

"How is she?" Logan asked, standing behind Jean and Kitty.

"Shock-y," Hope answered herself, already her limbs were feeling heavy again, and she could tell this was about as far as her drained energy was going to take her, "Because I've been starved for so long, even the small amount of blood I've lost is going to get me in trouble if I lose more. Need more fluids, some glucose now that I think about it. Jean, we have a few bottles of it in the bag, I'd start with a hundred CCs."

"Can you wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to show up, or do you need a hospital now?" Hope looked up at Logan, he was looking at the back of her right hand, and the three long gouges. It's not your fault, Hope wanted to tell him, I did it myself.

"Hmm," Hope thought about his question instead of his guilt, "I think it would be best to get me to a hospital. I think I'm going to pass out soon, but I can't be sure."

"Scott, Kurt, and Rogue, stay with me here," Logan ordered, "We'll wait for S.H.I.E.L.D., 'Roro get the Doc to a hospital." Hope heard Ororo's answer slur, hmm, she was passing out sooner than she thought. Ah well, she was safe passing out here wouldn't be so bad.

------

Hope was sitting up in a hospital bed, smiling at her family. They had all come, her mother, father, sister and bother, and she felt at home and safe. Her mother was sitting next to her, holding her left hand, while her father stood behind her mother, stroking the top of her hair. Thea was sitting with Michael on the end of the bed, each had a hand on one leg. She'd been here three days, undergoing treatment for her frostbite, dehydration and her hand. She'd accidentally cut the tendons to her pointer and middle finger. Surgeons had repaired them, but they were unsure on if she would get full movement back in those fingers. The doctor who was taking care of her had decided that she was well enough to have visitors and her family was the first visitors she had wanted to see.

"So, baby sister, how you feeling today?" Michael asked, being the first to break the comfortable silence.

"I'd like to have more than an hour for visitors," Hope answered, poking him with her foot, "I don't think I can stand an hour of your ugly mug."

"You'll come to the mansion once your released, won't you?" Her mother asked, squeezing her hand.

"I will," Hope said, squeezing her mother's hand back. Hope wouldn't tell her that she would go because she was afraid of cold and snow. Even the slightest chill made her relive the nights she had spent in the shed and she'd go into small panic attacks. The psychologist she was talking with said it was natural and that she shouldn't be ashamed, but Hope was.

"We'll talk with Mr. Xavier about getting your things to the house," Her father said, "You don't have to worry about a thing. You just get better."

"I will," Hope said again. They weren't going to ask her about it, Hope realized, no one was going to ask about what happened to her. She didn't want them to know, either, what had happened to her was a horrible experience and the only time she ever wanted to relive it was testifying in court against Stryker.

"We should let you see your students," Thea said, smoothing the blanket around Hope.

"No, don't go," Hope clung tighter to her mother's hand. "I want to be with family for awhile." Hope leaned forward so her mother could hug her, and Hope started crying again. She spent a lot of her time crying, late at night when the nightmares came, and when she talked with the psychologist, she was beginning to think she'd never run out of tears. Her whole family moved closer, until Hope was enveloped in their comfort and warmth.

"It's all over baby girl," Her father said, "All over."

------

Author's Note: Well, it's not all over. There are a few loose ends to tie up in Chapter Fourteen and there's an epilogue to write. I know, Stryker doesn't seem to be exactly like Stryker, but he's not completely gone from the Hope Series, he'll be back in a later story, intriguing no? Look a whole chapter from Hope's point of view! And Trask is dead, surprising no? Anyway, please stay tuned for more. Also please read and review.

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	14. Chapter Fourteen

Hope Returns

Chapter Fourteen

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: Alright, I've got lots of loose ends to tie up, and that's the whole point of this chapter, trying to tie up those loose ends. Well, maybe not all of the loose ends. Please read and review.

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Fury met with the staff of the Institute almost a week after Dr. Chandler had been rescued, finally giving in to their demands for information on the case against Stryker and Trask, even though Trask was dead. He'd come on his own time, without the knowledge of his superiors, not that his superiors would care. They had already complained about the X-men being the ones to find Dr. Chandler, that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't find the information about Akelm being Stryker and other facts that made the government look like idiots. The only thing Fury was irked about was his own ego being bruised. Once again the X-men had beaten S.H.I.E.L.D. in a few more years he'd probably be use to it.

"Thank you for coming to see us, Colonel," Charles said, sitting in front of his desk.

"Not a problem," Fury said, leaning back in his chair, "I'll try and answer as many of your questions as I can. Doesn't Dr. Chandler want to be present for this?"

"Dr. Chandler is still in Southern Carolina with her family, recovering," Charles explained, "Though if you'd rather wait for her to return, she'll be coming back in a few days."

"No, that's fine," Fury looked between the instructors, "What do you want to know?"

"What are you doing about Trask's death?" Logan asked. He was standing by the window, looking out it more than looking at Fury.

"An autopsy was ordered on the body," Fury started, "The pathologist couldn't find a reasonable way to explain how he died. Some how every one of Trask's nerve endings were eviscerated, his spinal column was turned into liquid. We're covering it up as death by exposure."

"How did Hope manage that?" Hank asked, he sat next to Ororo on the couch across from Fury.

"We've started going through Trask's records," Fury smiled a bit, "Trask kept very good records about everything he did, thanks to those notes we've been able to arrest all the co-conspirators. From the notes we learned that Trask ran a few test on Dr. Chandler while he was holding her. Using some of his father's technology, stuff we didn't find when we arrested Trask Sr., Trask Jr. managed to figure out what her X-gene was," Fury explained.

"Did you confiscate this technology?" Charles asked, "I'd like to take a look at it."

"Can't release it to civilians, Mr. Xavier," Fury said, "But I can tell you what it found out. Apparently Dr. Chandler's X-gene amplifies and projects bio-electricity."

"Bio-electricity, what is that?" Ororo asked, looking towards Hank.

"The natural electrical impulses created by the brain. It sends the messages from the brain to the nerve endings and vise versa. It what allows us to feel, move, basically it's body's control system," Hank explained.

"From the files we've read, Trask believed that Dr. Chandler over loads the victims nervous system sending them into unconsciousness," Fury continued, "When she heals a person she just speeds up the electrical impulses that are in charge of healing."

"In theory Hope could control a person through their nervous system," Hank said, "She's never done any serious, permanent damage to anyone though, before Trask."

"There was a video recorder found next to Trask's body. We played the tape and it looks like he went to see her and she lost control of her powers. When we talked to her about what happened, she said the same thing. It doesn't look like she did it on purpose."

"Have you told Dr. Chandler about all of this?" Charles asked Fury.

"I thought it best you tell her. You are the experts on this."

"She'll have to start training," Logan said to the window, "Something more than what you've been putting her through Charles."

"Agreed, but we'll worry about that when Dr. Chandler returns." Charles nodded towards Logan, "Colonel Fury, what can you tell us about what will happen to Stryker? And the others involved in the kidnapping and attack?"

"They'll go to trail, the Department of Defense is taking this one, but if they're convicted they'll be placed in a S.H.I.E.L.D. operated prison. Stryker is charged with acts of terrorism, attempted kidnapping and assault and battery. The men we have are charged with mostly acts of terrorism and murder. One of the men we caught confessed to the advocate murders too, everything is falling into place." Fury said to Charles, "Dr. Chandler will have to testify about the attack as well as the kidnapping. You, Mr. McCoy and Ms. Monroe will have to testify about the attack on the Capitol. I can't tell you how long that will take. Logan, you'll have to testify about what happened to Stryker and your search."

"We will make ourselves availed for that," Charles said, "But we wont be staying in Washington this time."

"Hey, that's the Defense Department's problem," Fury held up his hands, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is just helping them out, but I have to tell you, Stryker has a chance of getting set free."

"He was involved," Logan growled, "We've got solid evidence of that."

"All the evidence you found was found by civilians, obtained illegally, and will be thrown out of court," Fury growled right back, "What we have may not be enough to hold him, if we go to trial there's a chance on appeal Stryker could get set free."

"Double jeopardy will keep him from being prosecuted again," Hank sighed, "How large is this chance?"

"It's a slight chance, I'm no lawyer, but I don't see it happening. What S.H.I.E.L.D. has found is solid and all within legal parameters."

"What else did you learn from Trask records?" Logan asked, finally glancing towards Fury.

"Trask was smart, once he heard about the bills he started planning. He used the senators that proposed the bills to get inside information about the proceedings. Or at least that's what I believe."

"Are any of the senators being charged with anything?" Hank asked.

"They kept their hands clean and Trask only revered to them as the senators, no names. We can't prove they had anything to do with the attack," Fury said shaking his head, "Even when he had a plan of attack he kept the attention away from the Capitol, his followers were the ones to murder the advocates that were to speak in front of Congress," Fury said.

"He seemed to think of everything," Charles said.

"I tried to call Charles the day before the attack, and the day of, no one answered me," Logan looked towards Charles, "I tried reaching you telepathically as well."

"Trask planned that out. He knew you wouldn't leave the students unattended, Mr. Xavier, so he used his people on the inside. The desk clerk was part of his organization, she handle all the arrangements between the hotel and yourself. Once she knew what rooms you would be staying in, she told Trask who fixed them up so no telepathic message could get in or out. When you called, Logan, she directed the call to an empty room."

"Did he claim responsibility for the bombing?" Hank asked, leaning forward.

"No, actually. The only mention of the bombing is that whoever did it would have to be thanked," Fury frowned, "We still don't know who did it."

"And Mystique, what's going to happen to her?" Logan asked.

"Under arrest from kidnapping and impersonating a federal officer," Fury smiled, "We've got her dead to rights on that, she'd being transported to jail today."

"We need to send the X-men to help." Logan turned away from the window, "There's no way Magneto's going to let her go to jail."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. can handle Mystique," Fury said, getting to his feet.

"Yes, Colonel, but can you handle Magneto?"

------

Mystique was getting impatient with Magneto. She'd been held in the S.H.I.E.L.D. prison for long enough, when was he going to come get her? When she had been held in a cell, a completely metal cell, she had expected to be rescued within hours, but she'd spent over two weeks in the damn cage and now they were moving her to another one. If Magneto didn't come get her soon she'd break out on her own. She was surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. commandos, they'd fitted her with a shock collar, there was no chance for her to shift now. Once the collar was off though, she was getting out of here. Mystique was thrown left as an explosion rocked the van. Another one went off, the van pitched and rolled onto its side. Mystique was forced to endure the rough ride, but when the van stopped she righted herself and shoulder charged the nearest commando. She looked up at the sound of metal tearing, the side of the van was being peeled back and Gambit dropped in.

"Consider us your knights in shinnin' armor, _cher_," He said, swinging his staff in a circle, knocking out the guards. Colossus dropped in as well, taking out the remaining commandos, and then ripping the collar off Mystique's neck.

"Took you long enough," Mystique hissed while Colossus broke the chain on the handcuffs and leg shackles.

"We've been busy," Mystique looked up, Pyro was standing on the side of the van, looking down through the hole, "And if we don't hurry we're going to be busier, little Pietro says the X-jet took off from the mansion." Mystique pulled herself out of the van, and looked around. They were on a rural road somewhere in Virginia by the looks of the area, probably only a few miles outside of Washington DC. There were two large holes blown in the street near the van, Mystique glared hard at Gambit who grinned back at her.

"Why should I let iron man here have all the fun?" He laughed, jumping out of the van.

"I'll show you fun," Mystique growled, advancing towards him.

"You really want to give the X-morons more time to get here?" Pyro yelled, "Let's get out of here, you two can settle your differences later."

"Fine," Mystique snapped, "Just how are we going to get out of here? I don't see a car or a helicopter anywhere."

"We call for a ride," Gambit held up a card, already charged at tossed it straight up. Mystique watched it explode in the air, seconds later a helicopter appeared, and it dropped a ladder down. Mystique grabbed it and while Colossus held it steady started to climb. She pulled herself into the helicopter and wasn't surprised to find Magneto waiting for her.

"What did you find out?" He asked while the others climbed the ladder.

"The president is going to let the bills pass," Mystique said, "He's more afraid of what human voters are going to think than what mutant voters think. He's going to create a special department to handle us too."

"So, he's giving in. What about Trask?"

"Dead, Dr. Chandler's the one who killed him. She lost control."

"How convenient," Magneto smiled, "I would take it your mission was successful?"

"The plans the government has for mutant policing," Mystique pulled out a small disk she had kept hidden in her leg, "They seem to be preparing for war."

"Excellent."

"Hold on here," Pyro said, "I thought you were under video surveillance the whole time. How'd you get all of this?"

"Amazing what one can carry with them these days," Mystique held out a finger on it was a small computer chip, "You put this on the side of the camera and they're none the wiser you're gone."

"So you wandered around S.H.I.E.L.D. as what a cockroach?" Pyro laughed, elbowing Gambit in the chest. Mystique tilted her head and shifted in Nicholas Fury.

"No one questions Fury."

------

There was so much to be done, so much to fix. How could his best men get caught like that? They let themselves forget the bigger picture, the more important mission and because of that they'd screwed up. Well, he'd fix their mistakes and make sure they weren't made again. When the door opened behind him, he turned around and Meredith Rike walked in.

"You wanted to see me sir?" She said, completely calm and cold Meredith Rike was controlled; she would have been a better choice to run the whole mission. He should have used her in the beginning, he thought, she wasn't unstable like Trask, and she covered her tracks better than Stryker. He still liked Stryker though, he was worth keeping. Good thing that mutant doctor had taken care of Trask, murders were always hard to arrange and cover up. He's had enough of those with the advocate murders; he'd try to avoid them in the future.

"I want you to make sure Stryker is kept inform of our plans," He said, turning his back on her, "I want to keep him involved. Tell him to start recruiting from prison."

"Of course sir."

"I want to run for office, Meredith, we'll start small with the local area," He smiled thinking about his clever plan, "You'll have to marry me, the public loves a family. What do you think, two or three children?"

"Three sir, most modern families have three," she answered without a pause. Yes, she would be perfect for his plans.

"We'll be all about family values, protecting the home and keeping mutants from taking over," He continued, "But we won't be violent or angry about it, none of this "mutants threaten the American way of life" something more like…like…give me a slogan Meredith."

"Family values through segregation?" She offered.

"No, no," He waved a hand at her, "Doesn't matter now, we'll work on it later. Make friends with the locals, Meredith, tell me what they want to hear from a leader, research first. We'll be exactly what the public wants, once we have them here, we'll move for Congress. After that, the White House. Once we're there, we'll make sure these mutants don't do any more damage to the public. We'll stop them, we'll stop them, won't we?" He turned back to face her, "What do you think, dear?"

"A brilliant plan, sir."

------

"Fury!" Logan called, following the man outside and down the steps in the Institute, "Wait a second Fury!" Logan had waited until the X-jet had taken off before going after Fury. He'd decided to stay behind, in a battle against Magneto he was almost useless, or that was his excuse to Hank and 'Roro. What he wanted was a conversation with Fury, alone.

Fury stopped, halfway to the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter that had brought him to the Institute, "What do you want Logan?"

"I want to talk to Stryker."

"No," Fury said, then turned to walk to the helicopter.

"Damn it, Fury," Logan grabbed his shoulder and spun the man around, "He knows something about what happened to me."

"How do you know that?" Fury shrugged off his hand and took a step back watching him suspiciously.

"He knew me. When he shot me he said "it's you", I want to know what he meant." Logan had been thinking about what had Stryker had said a lot. How the hell had a guy like Stryker, not even forty years old, known him? He certainly didn't remember Stryker from anywhere, he hadn't even gotten a sense of déjà vu looking at him, but Stryker had looked at him like he knew him.

"Logan, you flew Dr. Chandler to Baltimore airport, didn't you?" Fury sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Stryker was there, waiting to pick Dr. Chandler up, he may have seen you when you landed."

"That doesn't explain it," Logan growled, "And you know it. He knows something about what happened to me."

"You can't prove it, Logan," Fury shot back, "Wait until he's in jail to talk to him. You broke most of the bones in his face, three of his ribs, and his collarbone, but that's not even a fraction of his injuries. You want me to continue listing them? The only way you're going to see him is in court and when he's in jail."

"Fury…" Logan advanced towards him.

"If I let you see him now, you'll owe me," Fury hissed, "You want to owe me again, Logan? Because I have no problem with you having to owe me." Logan stopped in his tracks, "I thought so. Good-bye Logan." Logan stood there on the lawn watching Fury and the helicopter until it vanish over the horizon. He knew Stryker knew something about what happened to him, he felt it and his instincts had never led him wrong. Stryker may have information about his past, how could Fury expect him to wait on something like that?

"Logan," Charles called from the steps. "Is there something wrong?"

Logan turned around and sighed, "Just something personal, Charles."

"You want to talk about it?" Charles asked, watching him with concern.

"Maybe later," Logan shrugged, "There's nothing to talk about, yet."

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Author's Note: The mysterious man is back, of course you still don't know who he is either. The only thing I'll tell you about him is that he'll be back in a later story. And what is Magneto up to with those government plans? What's the government up to? And what does Stryker know about Logan, if he knows anything at all? Wait, wasn't I suppose to tie up loose ends in this chapter? Whoops. Ah well, the epilogue, which is filled with fluff, is next, please read and review.

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	15. Epilogue

Hope Returns

Epilogue

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: The epilogue, the last part of this story. I know, you're all sad to see it end, but don't worry, I'll be posting some write ins shortly. I've also starting to think about original plot lines for the next story in the Hope Series, so you'll just have to be patient and wait for a bit. Please read and review.

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Hope sat in the Infirmary, working on the paperwork that had piled up in her absence. Hope had stopped thinking about it as her kidnapping, if she thought about it that way, it just brought up too many painful memories. She'd recovered physically while in South Carolina, all her stitches were out, she had gained the weight she lost back and could use her right had with relative ease. Her pointer and middle fingers would always be slightly bent, but she could hold a pencil and do many of the things she was able to do before. Her time with her family had started to heal her emotionally, starting a scab over a very big wound that probably would never be completely closed. The students at the Institute didn't ask about what happened to her, Hank had once or twice but Hope had just shaken her head. He didn't need any more guilt. She'd talked with Charles about it, usually when she had some time to spare. He was a very good listener and the days when she talked with him she could usually go to sleep at a reasonable hour, but still she felt fragile inside. She also had officially started training to become an X-man. The easiest part of the whole thing was giving her a code name, Coma. She had her own uniform, too. When Charles had made the announcement the students had instantly started regaling her of horror stories about training sessions, it had been one of Hope's favorite moments in the Institute. She would actually train by herself, while the students were in school, that way she could still treat students during their training days. All in all, everyone seemed to be moving forward from this. Except for her, though she acted like she'd forgotten or moved on, she felt stuck. And I don't have a single clue on how to move forward, Hope thought, taping the pencil in her hand against the counter. Hope glanced up from the paperwork when the door opened, Logan stood there, frowning at her.

"Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, watching her. Hope looked towards the clock, it was past midnight.

"I got distracted," Hope shrugged, "What are you doing up?"

"Working," Logan walked into the room, "How's the hand?"

Hope glanced down at it and the three bright scars, "Healed. It wasn't your fault you know, I did it myself."

Logan shrugged, "I still could have hurt you, slicin' through the truck like that."

"I don't want to talk about it, Logan," Hope muttered, looking away from him.

"All right, Doc," He said and walked away. Hope sat there for a few moments, then leapt up from her seat and went chasing after him.

"Logan wait!" She called, reaching out and grabbing his arm, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, you don't want to talk about it, you don't have too," He said, lifting her hand off his arm and turning around to face her.

"I need to go back," Hope blurted, looking up at him, "I have to go back."

He stared at her for a while, "Get a jacket."

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Hope stepped off the last step of the stairs to the jet and into the snow. Her eyes were locked on the cabin, which almost looked like something you'd find on a Christmas card, but it didn't feel that way to Hope. She didn't shiver because of the cold, but because of the memories it brought back. It was a place that would always make her feel lost and afraid. After this, she was never coming back here, ever.

"You want me to wait in the jet?" Logan asked.

"No, it's alright." Hope took another step forward, "It doesn't matter to me." She heard him walk down the stairs and felt him standing behind her.

"When Trask first took me here, I managed to get away," Hope said, her eyes never leaving the cabin. She was more or less talking to herself, almost forgetting that Logan was with her, "I ran for the woods, not sure on which way to go, but it was the opposite direction from Trask, that's all that mattered. So I ran, it was hard too, I had leg shackles on. I found a hollow tree trunk to hide in." Hope turned her face upwards to look at the stars, "It was the first time I'd ever heard wolves. He caught me, found me pretty easily considering I thought I'd made it pretty hard to follow my trail. Well, he dragged me through the snow, back here and then tossed me in the shed. I think he liked to keep me in dark, cold and cramped places." Hope turned towards the shed and started walking towards it. She stopped a few steps later; she could smell her father's cigar smoke. She turned around to look and Logan stood by the jet, a cigar hanging from his mouth.

"Want me to put it out?" He asked.

"No, my father smokes the same cigars."

"He sent me some, for saving you."

"My father loves those cigars, but my mother hates them, so she makes my father smoke them on the front porch," Hope smiled at Logan, "Did he send you a half box or a full one?"

"Half."

"The only person I've ever seen him give a full box to was my brother," Hope looked back to the shed, "I can't tell them about this. Even Michael, who I thought I could tell everything to, I can't."

"They don't need to know about it," Logan offered.

"No, they don't, but they want to know. When they didn't think I was looking I could see the pity and the curiosity in their eyes. I can't tell them, because then they'd just hover even more. I couldn't go anywhere without Thea, my sister, offering to drive me, or Michael walking with me. Couldn't get a single moment alone except late at night when everyone else was asleep, of course at night I didn't want to be alone. It drove me nuts after awhile." Hope took another step towards the shed, but found herself stuck. She couldn't go closer, she couldn't face that place again. "He threw me in there like I was nothing but a sack of potatoes. After the first night I was so cold I couldn't move. Trask came back, took the handcuffs and then just left me there. I hated him, I wanted him dead, but I never meant to kill him. I just, just lost control, like I was a wild animal or something. I was so cold, so weak, I couldn't stop myself."

"I know the feeling." Hope turned back to Logan, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I killed a man, Logan, I did something very wrong."

"Doc, Trask was a monster. He's worth more dead than alive."

"I've saved the lives of murderers, rapists and child beaters, just because Trask was a monster it doesn't make it okay to kill him." Hope looked away, back towards the shed. Even from where she stood, feet away from it and with so much time since she'd been there last she could smell the blood, hear Trask screaming, "I can't go back there. I thought I could, maybe face it, but I never want to be back in that place again."

"Don't force it, Doc, you don't have to prove anything."

"I just have to heal something." Hope sighed and walked to the cabin, "Are you coming in with me?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. locked that place up," Logan said.

"There's a trick to these cabin door knobs, we have some just like it back home," Hope twisted the doorknob the wrong way and heard the pop of the lock, "Twist the knob the wrong way and the door just opens, have to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. their security is iffy." Hope opened the door and stepped inside. She could see in her minds eye herself moving around inside, panicked and afraid. "When I first came in here, I felt like crying because I was warm again. There's nothing like that feeling." Hope took a step forward and stood in the middle of the cabin looking around. "This would be a nice place to get away from the world, no wonder Trask chose it."

"You okay Doc? You're looking a little pale," Logan interrupted.

"Do I really?" Hope looked down at her hands, they were shaking, "Guess this is bothering me more than I thought."

"You want to get out of here?"

"No, not yet." Hope walked through the second door, back outside into the night.

"The guilt you feel about what happened here, you shouldn't have because you had no other choice Doc. Someone took you, they were gonna kill you and you decided you didn't want that, so you fought back. It was your only choice whatever guilt you're carrying around because of this, it ain't worth it."

Hope turned around and looked at Logan, trying to read him. It sounded like he'd actually experienced something like what had happened to her. So much of him was a mystery to her, but even though he told her nothing, she was still telling him what she could barely tell Charles. "You know, when Stryker was dragging me to the truck, I was done. I'd tried fighting, I'd tried surviving, and nothing worked, so I just… I just reached the point where I didn't want to fight anymore. I was perfectly ready to die," Hope sighed, "But then I heard you and I could do it, I could fight back."

"You know Doc, that's the nicest thing I think you've ever said to me," Logan smiled, and Hope smiled back. She started walking towards Logan, he watched her while she crossed to him, taking the cigar from his mouth. She found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. She held on to him tightly while she slanted her mouth over his, kissing him soft and slow. She could never really tell him how it had felt to see him coming to her rescue but she tried with this kiss. He seemed to understand, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her tighter against him. She could taste the smoke of the cigar on him, found it comforting and deepened the kiss. It seemed to stretch on for hours, but Hope moved her hands to cup his face and slowly she broke the kiss.

"We should go back," She sighed with some regret. She happily could have stood out in the snow kissing Logan for hours, but she had reality to get back to.

"Yeah," But he kissed her again, drawing out a sigh from Hope, before slowly pulling back. They stepped apart, smiling at each other again. While she walked to the jet Hope looked back over her shoulder once more and then put it all behind her.

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Author's Note: I have been dying to do a Hope/Logan scene in this story and finally I got the chance! Not that the whole point of this was the kiss, but wasn't that just great? Fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff! If you get the point, because I'm not going to tell you what it is, then you get a cookie! A large, over-sized cookie. If you don't, please enjoy the fluff. Please read and review.

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